


To Rise in Perfect Light

by accidentallymelted



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Stardust, Character Death, M/M, Swords & Sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 08:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 71,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12602564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentallymelted/pseuds/accidentallymelted
Summary: In hopes of paying off his family's debt, and to stave off his sister's unwanted marriage to the village bully, Alex Galchenyuk sets out to retrieve a fallen star.[Stardust AU]





	To Rise in Perfect Light

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone should head over [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12600416) to shower a ton of love on silverandblue, who did a podfic of this fic! It's super great!
> 
> Huge, HUGE thanks to Kris and Helen for putting up with me as I wrote this over the course of the past four years. It's been a long road - thank you both so much for not giving on me.

 "Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;   
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night." – Sarah Williams

_Once Upon A Time_. . .

All the best stories start with a _once upon a time_. It’s a wonderful phrase - it means everything and nothing. The story could be taking place a long time ago, sometime in the future, or even _right now_ , somewhere. This is the beauty of _once upon a time_.

_. . . there lived a young man and his family, in a village by a wall._

Alex frowned as he rounded the corner onto High Street and saw a knot of young men clustered up ahead. His frown deepened when he heard Lucic’s distinctive drawling voice and his hands balled into fists without his permission. He began to cross the street to avoid them, but then David’s voice came in answer to Lucic, sounding defiant, and Alex let out an annoyed breath before forcing his fists to relax and heading toward the group.

“. . . could she possibly want with you?” Lucic was sneering at David as Alex came up to them. “You have _nothing_ to offer her.”

David’s hands were clenched into fists and he looked like he was one word away from hauling off and punching Lucic. Not that Alex would mind someone punching Lucic - the man was an ass, and a bully - but David was a terrible fighter, and Anna would probably be upset if he got hurt. Alex pushed his way through to the center of the group and took a good look around.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, even though he had a pretty good idea. _Anna._ David had asked Alex nervously if he thought she might like to go to the Solstice Festival with -him, and Alex had shrugged and suggested that David just _ask Anna_. He was of the opinion that David’s chances were pretty good - Anna had nothing but disdainful words for Lucic’s attempts to court her, and she did seem to like David.

“Galchenyuk,” Lucic said, raising an eyebrow. “This man insulted your sister. I was simply warning him not to do it again.”

“I did not!” David shouted, his face bright red. “I asked her whether or not she would like to go to the Solstice Festival with me in two weeks, and she said yes. You’re just angry that she didn’t say yes to _you_ ,” he said, eyes blazing.

“Shut your mouth!” Lucic growled, advancing on David, who held his ground. Alex stepped between them, holding up his hands.

“I,” he began to say, but as he turned to face Lucic he was met with a fist coming the other way. He tried to duck, but Lucic was bigger, faster, and most importantly better at fighting, so the fist caught him right in the face.

Alex staggered back and David rushed past him and threw himself at Lucic with a cry of rage. He didn’t even manage to get a shot in before Lucic laid him out, a punch to the chin that snapped David’s head back and left him on the ground, stunned. Alex stepped forward again and interposed himself between David and Lucic, glaring as best he could through the pain in his eye.

“That’s enough,” he snapped.

“Now, now, little Galchenyuk,” Lucic said, his voice patronizing. “I was just looking out for your sister’s best interests. Mr. Baker down there has nothing to offer her - and if he he keeps hanging around her, well. People might start to get the wrong ideas.”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about Anna that way,” Alex growled, and Lucic laughed.

“Can’t handle the truth? What are you going to do, fight me?” he asked, still laughing. “Please. You couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag. Your father couldn’t either - but then, everyone knows he’s not your _real_ father.” He dropped back and assumed a boxing stance. “Come on, then. Take your best shot,” he said, a mocking grin on his face.

Alex growled, and reached down blindly to grab a stick from the ground, hefting it before shifting his hold to an approximation of the grip they’d been taught for fencing in school and swinging it at Lucic as hard as he could. Lucic danced out of the way and one of his friends passed him a walking stick. He grinned and beckoned to Alex.

“Fencing? Hope you’re better at that than you were boxing,” he said, then swung. Alex swung at his stick wildly and managed to parry the blow, then tried to hit him again. Lucic blocked him easily. “Although, come to think of it,” he said, musing, “I can’t seem to think of _anything_ you were good at.”

He knocked the stick out of Alex’s hands, then hit him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Alex doubled over, wheezing, and Lucic stuck his walking stick beneath Alex’s chin, tilting it up.

“Pathetic,” he sneered. “Tell your sister that she’d best stay away from the baker over there, if she knows what’s good for her.“ He jerked his chin at David, who was sitting up and glaring at both Lucic and Alex impartially.

“I’ll do as I please, Milan Lucic,” came a tart voice from the back of the crowd, which parted to reveal Anna, her face pale with rage and her eyes promising murder. She was wearing a blue dress and carrying a parasol and she marched straight up to Lucic and poked him in the chest. “You’ve no right to tell me who I may or may not talk to - you’re not my husband and you’re certainly not my father. I can go to the Solstice Festival with David if I wish, and I do.” She rounded on Alex. “I can fight my own battles,” she said, her back straight and her voice fierce. “Don’t you ever do this again.” She finally turned to David. “You may escort me home,” she said imperiously, and David scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off before offering Anna his arm.

The crowd dispersed after that, Lucic and his gang heading down High Street after throwing a couple of token glares after Anna and David. Alex waited until he was alone, then tossed the stick he’d been using as a makeshift sword onto the ground in disgust and kicked it away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged off in Anna and David’s wake.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex loitered in the small yard behind his family’s home, hands shoved deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. He could hear his mother’s melodic voice and his father’s lower tones over the sound of dishes clanking together and the sizzle of dinner cooking. He didn’t want to go inside - his mother would cluck and fuss over his black eye and the fact that he’d been fighting (again), while his father would be quietly disappointed - especially when he found out that Alex hadn’t even managed to get a shot in.

He’d been standing there for about five minutes when his mother opened the back door and looked over at him, her expression morphing from amusement to surprise to disappointment in moments. She sighed, and asked lightly, “Sasha, are you coming in for dinner?”

“No,” Alex said, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets and ducking his head down so he didn’t have to meet his mother’s gaze. His eye throbbed and his stomach and back ached from the fight with Lucic, not to mention the churning mass of frustration, anger and humiliation in his stomach.

“Too bad,” she said, coming over and peering up at him with motherly concern. “It’s your turn to set the table. Come in, and I’ll get you a cut of meat for your eye.”

She turned and went back into the house. Alex lingered outside for a few more minutes, until his mother’s voice floated out the open window. “Get in here, Sasha.” Her tone brooked no argument. He straightened up with an aggrieved sigh and trudged into the house.

His father raised an eyebrow at the sight of him from where he was sitting on a stool by the sink and peeling potatoes, but he didn’t mention it, just continued to talk to his mother about the latest gossip from City Hall, where he worked, and the tailor’s shop, where she worked. Anna was nowhere to be seen. Alex set the table as quickly as possible, then sat down at the kitchen table and slumped against the wall, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He opened them briefly when his mother put a hand on his shoulder, accepted the piece of steak she was holding with a curt, “Thanks,” and closed them again, putting the steak against his black eye. The kitchen was warm and cosy, and the sound of his parents talking was soothing enough that he started to relax.

The sounds of Anna thumping down the stairs and pulling up the chair next to him broke into his thoughts. “You’re an idiot,” she said without any preamble. Alex opened his good eye and glared at her.

“Takes one to know one,” he retorted. Anna rolled her eyes and huffed, but otherwise ignored him.

“I can’t believe you let that bully Lucic pick a fight with you. I thought you were smarter than that! You _know_ he’s going to win! He always wins! He’s just looking for an excuse to beat you up!” She turned away, but not before he saw her face twisted in genuine upset.

“So I’m supposed to just, what, let him say those things?” Alex demanded, sitting up straighter in his seat and taking the steak off his eye so he could glare at Anna better. “Just _let_ him talk about you that way? About Papa? About me?”

“I can fight my own battles,” Anna said, her eyes blazing. “Let him _try_ and talk about me.”

“Neither one of you should be fighting at all,” their father said, wiping his hands on a towel as he came over to the table. “Especially not with Milan Lucic. That,” he nodded at Alex’s black eye, “is only one of the reasons why it is a bad idea.” He glanced over at Anna. “Go help your mother bring in dinner.”

Anna scowled, but she got up and vanished into the kitchen. Alex’s father sank into his chair with a groan, stretching out his bad leg. “Lucic, hmm?” he asked his son. “What did he say?”

Alex’s eyes were hot as he stared at the floor. “Nothing,” he muttered. “It was nothing.”

“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” his father said, and when Alex lifted his head, there was a trace of a frown on his face. “Lucic said something about Anna? About me - oh, Alex.”

The sudden sorrow in his father’s voice made Alex duck his head again. His family knew him too well.

“Anna is right, you know - you don’t need to fight her battles. Although I suppose I should appreciate that you’re willing to stand up for your sister’s honor - not that it should need standing up for. And bringing up your parentage - that Lucic has no honor of his own.” This was said with disgust.

Alex went back to his chair and slumped into it as his mother and sister came out of the kitchen, bearing trays filled with dinner. “You really don’t know anything?” he asked quietly. His father pursed his lips and sighed, shaking his head, and his mother frowned at them as she set dinner on the table and sat down. Anna didn’t look over at Alex as she put her own tray down and sat.

The dinner table was quiet for several long minutes as they served themselves and began eating. Alex kept his attention on his plate, eating mechanically as quickly as he dared.

“So,” his mother said eventually, breaking the silence with forced cheerfulness. “Did anything interesting happen to either of you today?”

Alex glanced at Anna out of the corner of his eye to find her looking right back at him. She squared her shoulders. “David Baker invited me to the Solstice Festival, and I said yes.”

“David Baker?” Their mother pursed her lips thoughtfully and exchanged a long glance with their father. “Is that the young man who walked you home today?”

“Yes,” Anna said, picking at the remains of her stew.

“I thought Milan Lucic was going to ask you to the Solstice Festival,” their father said, his voice very bland. Anna put her fork down and straightened in her chair, pushing her shoulders back.

“I don’t like Milan Lucic,” she said, looking their father dead in the eye. “I like David Baker, so I told Lucic that I wouldn’t go with him, and David that I would.”

“I see.” Their father took another bite of his stew. “This is delicious, Inna.”

“Thank you, darling,” their mother said. “Anna, you will have to invite this David of yours over for dinner so that your father and I can meet him. But if you like him,” she shrugged. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t go with him to the Festival.” She turned to Alex. “What about you, Sasha? Have you invited anyone to the Festival?”

Alex made a face. “No, Mama. I was going to go with Nail.”

His mother sighed, but nodded, and the rest of dinner passed in unremarkable conversation.

Alex’s mother tried to corner him in the kitchen after dinner, but he managed to avoid her and slipped outside after quickly washing his dishes. He felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate almost instantly in the cool night air. He climbed the ancient oak tree at the boundary of their property and found his favorite perch, an odd convergence of branches that made a natural seat from which to sit and watch the stars. He tilted his head back and let his mind drift as he absently picked out the familiar shapes of the constellations, those he could see around the clouds that seemed to be perpetually in the sky.

His father had taught him about the constellations. Alex had many fond memories of summer nights spent with his father on the roof of their house, pointing out the constellations and telling the story behind each one. His father had broken his knee in a riding accident years ago and couldn’t climb up to the roof anymore, so Alex had found another spot to sit and watch the stars. He stayed up there long enough that he’d almost lost the feeling in his legs by the time he climbed down, feeling much more peaceful.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex was soothing a fidgety horse while Master Jacques, the blacksmith, fitted it for shoes when Nail came into the smithy, carrying his lunch pail. He sat down on the bench by the door, and busied himself talking to the horse’s owner. Alex was distracted for a moment, but jerked his mind back to his task when the horse he was holding stepped on his foot. He bit back a curse and nudged the horse’s shoulder to get him to move.

When Master Jacques was done, he got up and wiped his forehead off with the towel he kept on a hook by the door. “Good work,” he said, clapping Alex on the shoulder. “Go and have lunch.”

Alex nodded to his master and limped over to where Nail was sitting, grabbing his lunch pail on the way. Nail said goodbye to the man he was talking to, who then moved to negotiate a price with Master Jacques, and followed Alex out into the small courtyard to the rear of the smithy.

Alex eyed his friend as they sat down and started taking their lunches out. Nail’s usually cheerful face was shadowed by the ghost of a frown, and he wasn’t meeting Alex’s eyes. Not to mention, he was quiet, which was the strangest of all. Nail always had something to say.

“What?” he finally asked, when Nail continued to say nothing. Nail looked up, then away, and sighed.

“David told me about yesterday, this morning,” he said. Nail worked as an apprentice in the same bakery that David did, and the two were friendly. “He said that Anna said she’d go with him to the Solstice Festival?”

“Yes,” Alex confirmed, biting into his sandwich. The bread was good - Nail had made it. Nail was frowning, still, and Alex didn’t understand why. “What’s wrong?”

Nail sighed. “Milan Lucic stopped by this morning. It was a little strange - usually their housekeeper comes by to get the bread - but I think he just wanted to needle David about Anna.”

Alex snorted. “Anna’s made up her mind,” he told Nail. “She doesn’t like Lucic at all. She likes David, though.”

Nail smiled briefly. “That’s good, then - maybe he’ll stop mooning all over her. I keep telling him, she’s like my sister, but he never listens.” Alex made a face at the thought of anyone mooning over his sister, but the smile dropped off Nail’s face. “I just - Alex, he sounded like he was _threatening_ David, or maybe Anna. Tell her to be careful?”

“I don’t know why you think she listens to me,” Alex complained, and Nail laughed.

“True, I don’t know why she would,” he teased. “You have nothing but bad ideas.” He shrugged, momentarily sobered. “I just thought it was strange, that’s all. Now, tell me about the fight. What happened?”

Alex sighed, but launched into the story. Nail laughed and winced in all the right places, and joined Alex in coming up with colorful insults to hurl at Lucic the next time Alex ran into him. A rumble of thunder overhead cut their lunch short, and they hurriedly swept the remains back into their lunch pails. Nail took off at a run for the bakery just as fat raindrops began falling from the sky, calling, “See you tomorrow!” over his shoulder at Alex.

Alex ducked back into the smithy before the rain got too heavy, and Master Jacques looked up with a frown. “Raining again, eh?” he said, staring out the door at the swiftly thickening rain. “Well, let’s get back to work, lad. In weather like this, I’m sure there will be plenty more customers for horseshoes, and the ploughshares for Master Adner still need to be done.” Alex nodded and went to fetch his apron.

Master Jacques was correct - they had to break from working on the ploughshares three more times to shoe horses who’d lost theirs in the mud, and by the time Alex got home that evening he was weary and soaked to the bone. The rain, rather than letting up, had simply continued pouring down at a steady rate all that afternoon, and the roof of the smithy had sprung a leak in one corner that Master Jacques had sent Alex up to fix.

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair in the Galchenyuk household. Alex didn’t think anything of it at the time, too tired to pay attention to the mood at the table. He finished dinner and went up to his room, flopping down on his bed and closing his eyes. He’d only been laying there a couple of minutes when there was a knock at his door and Anna came in and curled up next to him on the bed. Alex grunted and shifted so his sister had room, opening his eyes long enough to see the tears on her cheeks. He sat up and leaned back against the headboard, waiting for her to say something.

“I heard Mama and Papa talking before dinner,” Anna finally said, her voice quiet. “Milan Lucic’s father called on Papa today and is requiring that Papa’s loans be paid in full by the end of the month.”

“What?” Alex said, startled. He looked over at Anna, confused, and Anna shifted so that she was sitting up, her knees hugged to her chest.

“Papa borrowed money from Mr. Lucic to buy the house,” she said, still quiet. “And then more money, when he was thrown from that horse and couldn’t work, you remember.”

“Yes,” Alex said, hesitant. He did remember, a little - it had been eight years ago, and Alex had been too busy running around, playing with Nail and avoiding schoolwork, to really pay attention to what was going on. He had known that his father was injured, and had to stay home to heal, and that he was supposed to be quiet around the house, because his father needed sleep to heal. He didn’t remember much else about that time.

“Well, Papa’s been paying him back, slowly, but now Mr. Lucic says that he needs it all, right away.” Anna blinked hard, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “Papa said something about 20,000 dollars. Sasha, I don’t think we _have_ that kind of money.”

Alex bit his lip. He didn’t think they had the money, either. His father’s salary was enough to cover their basic needs, and his mother’s pay supplemented it enough that they could put a little by in case of emergencies - or, he guessed, to pay back Mr. Lucic - but Alex, as an apprentice, wasn’t earning any money yet, and wouldn’t until he reached journeyman status, which was another year off at the earliest. Anna was in the same situation in the milliner's shop where she worked.

Anna’s tears were coming faster now, and she wiped at her face angrily. Alex shifted until he could reach the handkerchief resting on the table by his bed and passed it to her. She took it and pressed it to her face, her breath hitching several times as if she were trying not to sob. Alex reached out and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. She resisted for a moment, then buried her face in his shoulder. She shuddered, once and then again, and Alex felt his shirt dampen with the tears she couldn’t seem to stop. When she pulled back, he could see that they were tears of fury and helplessness.

“Sasha, I’m going to have to marry Milan Lucic, or we’re going to lose everything,” she said, finally, her voice thick. Alex growled and pulled her back into a rough hug.

“No,” he said, firmly. “No, Anya.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice filled with misery. “Sasha, I _hate_ him. I don’t understand - why is he doing this?”

“I don’t know, but listen - we’ll fix this. We’ll come up with _something_.” Alex made his voice sound as firm as he could, and Anna nodded, trying not to look doubtful.

“Okay,” she whispered. She straightened her shoulders and tried to smile, handing Alex back his handkerchief. “I’ll go start thinking about it,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting briefly. “Everyone knows I’m the smart one, of the two of us.”

“Yes,” Alex agreed, not taking the bait like he usually would. “Let me know what I can do to help.”

This time her smile was more real, if still a little watery. “I will. Thank you, little brother.” She left, leaving Alex wide awake and staring at his ceiling, his mind awhirl. He gave up on going to sleep and went downstairs and out into the yard, where the rain had finally given up. He climbed up into the tree and sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, looking up at the heavens. He was so lost in thoughts of how to earn the money that he almost missed the streak of light that arched across the sky.

A shooting star! His breath caught in his chest at the magnificent sight. A half-remembered child’s tale came to him and he kept his eyes on the star, unblinking, as he wished.

_I wish there was a way to get Mama and Papa the money they need, so Anna doesn’t have to marry Lucic. . ._

The star winked out abruptly and Alex blinked, startled. It looked like it had come to earth just on the other side of the Wall.

No one really knew much about the Wall. It was just sort of _there_ , always. There was a gap in the wall about half a mile from the boundary of his parents’ property, and it was guarded day and night by a powerful-looking man with a staff. Teenagers dared each other to try and cross it, only to be dealt knocks to the head and be returned to their parents. There were plenty of rumors about what was on the other side - none that had any basis in reality, as far as he could tell. Alex strained his eyes but he couldn’t see anything, and eventually he climbed down out of the tree and went back inside.

0o0o0o0o0

The royal chamber was stifling. The fire had been built up to try and warm the bones of the ancient, dying king, which was nice for him but left healthy young Princes sweating in their heavy brocade robes. Prince Jared surveyed the room with sharp eyes hidden behind his perpetually bored expression.

The king was lying in bed propped up by a massive stack of pillows, too weak to sit up on his own anymore. His face was the color and consistency of old paper - pale and fragile. Eric and Jordan, two of Jared’s older brothers, were deep in conversation by the window as they waited for their other brother, Marc, to arrive. The sky outside the window was dark, and rain lashed the window pane. Jared itched to go over there and open the window to let in some air, but didn’t quite dare.

“Where is Marc?” the king demanded, querulous. “I sent for him ages ago.”

“Coming, father,” Eric said, turning away from his conversation to regard the king earnestly. “He’ll be here soon.”

“He’d better,” the king muttered. Jordan rolled his eyes at Jared just out of the king’s line of vision, and Jared bit back a smirk, keeping his eyes on the bed. Their father had never quite accepted his children’s departure from tradition, and Jared didn’t trust his motives for making sure they were all present.

Finally, the door creaked open. “Sorry I’m late,” Marc said, coming into the room and moving to stand at Eric’s shoulder. Eric shifted slightly to make sure that he could see everyone in the room. “There was an emergency in the stables.”

“And we all know how much you like your horses,” the king said with an antagonistic sigh. “Very well. Since you are all here together now, I am bound to name one of you my heir.” He surveyed the four of them with a beady eye. “This is most irregular, you know.”

“Yes, father,” Jordan said, with exaggerated patience. “We know.”

“I myself had five brothers,” the king went on, as if Jordan hadn’t even spoken. “And I had killed them all to be named heir before my father even began to feel poorly.” He swept his eye over the four of them and seemed disappointed. “Yet all four of you are still alive.”

“Terribly sorry to disappoint you, father,” Jared said, maintaining his bored facade. His brothers all looked at him, varying degrees of suspicion in their eyes, before seeming to shake themselves out of it, turning back to look at their father. The king eyed him for a long moment before sighing and taking off his necklace, causing the great ruby to wink in the firelight.

“Since we are faced with an . . .unconventional situation, we will resolve it in an unconventional manner.” He gave them one last long look, as though waiting for one of them to speak up, perhaps pull out a sword and attack the others. None of them so much as twitched, although Jared could see Marc and Jordan’s eyes darting from face to face. The king held the necklace up to his eye and gazed at it, as the color slowly swirled out of the ruby. He extended his hand, and the necklace floated out in front of him and hovered in midair.

“He who restores the color to this ruby shall be recognized as the true heir of Stormhold,” he intoned. The four brothers exchanged glances, each seeming to wait for each other to move first, and then Eric started reaching towards the necklace - slowly, reluctantly. As he moved, Jared, Jordan and Marc exchanged a quick glance and then all lunged for it at the same time, jostling with each other and Eric to try and reach the stone first.

The necklace evaded all four of them neatly as it zipped across the room and punched through the window, letting in a blast of cooler air and rain. The king burst out laughing, sounding more like wheezing, before he laid back against his pillows and closed his eyes. “Go on, then,” he said, sounding gleeful. “Apparently you’re all more interested in the throne than you appear.”

Jared ignored the confused looks his brothers were giving him and each other and swept out of the room, already mentally planning what he would need to pack for a journey of indeterminate length.

Behind him, through the broken window pane, a star blazed up brilliantly and began to fall.

0o0o0o0o0

Gary Bettman was a careful man.

He had to be - warlocks were were usually hunted down and killed before they could accumulate enough power to become threats. Witches, whose power came from within them, regarded warlocks, who stole power from their surroundings, as parasites and had been known to band together to destroy any they came across. As witches were generally solitary creatures with a known dislike for working together (with a few notable exceptions), these alliances were temporary, fleeting, and deadly. Yes, Gary Bettman had had to be very careful indeed to have survived to his point in life.

The lure of a fallen star, however, was enough of a temptation to coax him into action. Such prizes were not to be sneezed at, even by one so cautious as he. He marked the signs carefully before retreating into his cave (warded all about the entrance to mask his presence and hide his power) to begin packing for his journey. Runes, traveling robes, herbs and supplies for gathering and storing power, books. . .

He came across a farm as he was traveling, where a pale young man with shocking blond hair was working to hitch a goat to a small cart. “I’ll give you a silver for the goat and the cart,” he said, causing the young man to turn and give him a quizzical look.

“It’s just for carting crops around, really,” he said. “He’s not big enough to pull it with you in it, I don’t think.”

“Lars!” came a voice from the farmhouse. “Have you got the goat hitched up yet?”

“Working on it, Ma!” he called over his shoulder. He turned back to find Bettman giving him a twisted smile and recoiled a little. “What are you-”

“You’re entirely correct,” Bettman said, reaching out with a hand to blow some powder into Lars’ face. “He is too small to pull the cart with me in it by himself, of course.”

When Lars’ mother came out a couple of minutes later to see what was taking him so long, Bettman and the cart, pulled by a handsome pair of goats, had already vanished over the horizon.

0o0o0o0o0

The next morning, Alex was working on a set of horseshoes for Master Jacques’s inspection while his master sold a knife to a traveling stranger. “Nice edge,” the stranger said, admiringly. “Your work?”

“Aye,” Master Jacques said, straightening subtly. “The best for leagues around.”

“I’ve no doubt,” the stranger said. “What steel do you use?”

“There’s a mill, ‘bout halfway between here and London,” Master Jacques said. “Makes some of the finest steel about.”

“Hmm.” The stranger sheathed the knife. “If you can do this with that, I’d love to see what you could do with starsteel.”

“Starsteel?” Master Jacques looked puzzled. “What’s that?”

“It’s the steel you get from fallen stars,” the stranger said. “Wonderful stuff. I know a man in London who has some stock of it - says it holds an edge forever and never breaks.” He sighed. “He charges over the moon for it, though. More valuable than gold.”

Alex’s head came up at that. “How much?”

The stranger and Master Jacques both turned to look at him. “What was that?”

“How much is it worth?” Alex ignored Master Jacques’s frown, looking at the stranger, who was wearing a puzzled look.

“That depends on how much of it you have,” he said. “But a good-sized lump would fetch you 20,000 to 30,000 dollars, easily.”

“A good-sized lump?”

“About this much,” he said, gesturing with two cupped hands together. “Why? Do you have some?” An avaricious look came into his eyes.

“No,” Alex said, turning back to his horseshoes. “I just find it odd that something could be worth that much money.” His heart was beating fast in his chest, but the stranger shrugged and dropped the subject, going back to haggling with Master Jacques for the knife.

As soon as Master Jacques released him for lunch, Alex gathered up his lunch pail and headed for the bakery and Nail. Nail was talking to David as they kneaded dough when Alex arrived, but he finished quickly and they headed out, eating their lunches and keeping a wary eye on the clouds that were hovering on the horizon, threatening to sweep in and drench the town - again. Alex told Nail about the conversation he’d had with Anna the night before, and Nail looked horrified at the thought.

“That bastard,” he said, emphatically. “Oh, no - God, Alex, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” Alex shook his head.

“Unless you’ve got a spare 20,000 dollars or so hanging around. . . .” Alex let it trail off as Nail made a face, shaking his head. “I figured. Anyway, I may have a solution - We had a stranger in the smithy this morning talking about something I’d never heard of before - starsteel? It’s the steel you get from a fallen star, and it’s supposed to hold an edge forever and never blunt or break.” Alex must have sounded wistful as he contemplated the many uses of such a metal, because Nail shook his head at him.

“And this is a solution how? You know where a fallen star is, just gonna go get it?” Nail teased. Alex grinned at him, sharp.

“I was out stargazing last night,” he said casually, “and I may or may not have seen a falling star.”

Nail’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Where? Toronto?”

“It landed just on the other side of the Wall. I didn’t see where, exactly, but it couldn’t have been that far away.” Nail’s eyes went huge, and an enormous smile broke out across his face.

“Alex, that’s such great news! You gonna go get it?” His face fell. “Oh, no - the Guardian. He won’t let you over.”

Alex shrugged. “I’m sure I can talk to him,” he said, confident. “He can’t like Lucic any more than we do.”

“And you know where you’re going?” Nail asked, skeptical. He thought for a minute, then shrugged. “Or you could just wander around for a while - it shouldn’t take that long, since there’s just, what, a field over there?”

“Exactly,” Alex said just as the clouds that had been hovering on the horizon decided to sweep in and start pouring. He cursed and waved goodbye to Nail, wrapping up the rest of his lunch and running back towards the smithy with one arm raised to shield his eyes from the rain.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex was distracted and fidgety at dinner that evening, too busy trying to remember _where_ exactly the star had landed to pay much attention to the conversation about the weather. He zoned back in when Anna reached out and poked him in the side.

“Ouch!” he muttered, rubbing at the spot where she’d jabbed him. Her fingernails hurt. “What was that about?”

“What is the _matter_ with you?” she asked in an undertone. Their parents were discussing the unseasonal storms and weren’t paying attention to them. “You’re acting like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

“Am not,” Alex protested automatically. Anna pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, expectant. He shrugged jerkily. “I might know how to solve the money problem.”

“What!” Anna exclaimed, loud enough to get their parents’ attention. They looked over, identical disapproving expressions on their faces.

“Anya,” their mother said, her voice mild. “No shouting at the dinner table, please.”

“Sorry,” Anna said, not sounding sorry in the slightest as she looked at Alex intently. “But what, Sasha?”

“What are you two talking about?” their father asked, a slight frown on his face. Alex, faced with his parents’ curious expressions and Anna’s unwavering stare, ducked his head.

“There was a man at the smithy today,” he said to his plate. “He said that people pay a lot of money for the steel that you can get from a fallen star, and I saw one fall last night. I thought I’d see if it was still there.” He shrugged again and picked up his fork, pushing mashed potatoes around on his plate.

“Sasha, that’s so great!” Anna said, bright and enthusiastic. “I’ll come with you, and help you look - where is it?”

“Just on the other side of the Wall,” Alex said, looking up.

“Absolutely not,” their father snapped, his voice suddenly cold and forbidding in a way that startled Alex into sitting bolt upright. Anna turned to look at him as well, confused by his tone of voice and the way his normally cheerful face was set into harsh, uncompromising lines.

“Papa?” she said, tentative, but their father ignored her.

“I’m not going to ask how you found out about Dobrivoje’s demands - I’m sure I already know,” he said, and slanted a sharp glance at Anna before turning back to Alex. “But my word on this is final. I forbid you to cross the Wall.”

“Do I get to know why?” Alex demanded, sitting up even straighter in his chair, his fists clenched under the table. “Or is this just another thing you’re going to hide from me? Were you even going to tell me about the money? Or would I just have come home from work one day to find that oh, Anna’s marrying Lucic, otherwise we’re losing the house?”

“We will find a way to pay,” his mother interjected, her tone soothing. “It is nothing you have to worry about, Sasha.”

“No?” Alex looked around the table. His mother was upset but trying to hide it, his father was upset and not bothering to try and hide it, and Anna was confused and upset. “I think it _is_ something I should be worried about. I’m a member of this family too, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are,” Anna said, fierce, echoed only a moment later by his mother. His father nodded, his lips pushed together in a hard line.

“Then why don’t you tell me things!” Alex cried, frustrated. “Why didn’t you tell me about the money? Why can’t I cross the Wall? _Where did I come from?_ ”

“While you live under my roof, young man, you will follow my rules,” his father said, his voice like frozen iron. “You will not be crossing the Wall, and that is final.” He started to stand, then almost collapsed as his bad leg buckled under him, catching himself on the table just in time. Alex started to move to help him, then stopped himself, gritting his teeth digging his fingers into his thighs hard enough that it hurt. His father steadied himself, then straightened and limped out of the room, his head held high.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex was throwing clothes into an old rucksack when Anna slipped into his room. He pretended to ignore her and kept packing, watching out of the corner of his eye as she bit her lip when she saw what he was doing. She wavered for a moment in his doorway, then came over and sat down on his bed. He stuffed one final shirt into his rucksack, then turned to look at her.

“What,” he said, his voice flat. Anna looked down at her hands, which were fidgeting with her skirt.

“I,” she started, then stopped. She’d seized handfuls of her skirt and now she slowly relaxed her grip, smoothing her hands over her lap to try and rid her skirt of wrinkles. “Sasha, I,” she said again, then stopped. Her voice was thin and quivery in a way it hadn’t been even when she’d been talking about possibly having to marry Milan Lucic. Alex frowned.

“Anya, what,” he said again, his voice a little softer this time. She swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to his.

“I went through Mama and Papa’s papers,” she confessed in a rush. “This morning, before I went to work. I wanted to see, how much money did we owe Mr. Lucic, because then I would _know_ , right, and maybe we could borrow the money from someone else and we could keep the house and I wouldn’t have to marry Milan Lucic, and - “ she stopped. Swallowed, again. Looked back down at her hands. “Sasha, I think I know why Papa doesn’t want you crossing the Wall.”

“You mean there’s a reason? Something besides ‘I said so?’” Alex’s voice was so thick with sarcasm that Anna flinched a little. Alex regretted making Anna flinch, but anger was still simmering under his skin from dinner, boiling up at the slightest disturbance. He didn’t apologize.

Anna rallied, though, lifting her chin and staring him down. “Papa always has a reason, Sasha. You _know_ he always has a reason.” Her mouth twisted. “I know he doesn’t always tell us, but it usually is a good reason.”

“Yes? Is that what you’re about to tell me, it’s a good reason?” Alex sneered, turning away to look through his things one more time, trying to decide if he needed to pack anything else.

“Sasha,” Anna’s voice had a steel thread running through it that made him turn around. She was sitting up straight, her hands folded in her lap. She met his eyes, her expression grave. “I found this in Mama and Papa’s papers.”

She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a piece of paper, worn and ragged from much folding and unfolding, and passed it to him. Alex took it reluctantly and read it aloud, squinting as he tried to decipher the faded ornate handwriting.

“Please take care of my son, since I cannot. Please - what word is this supposed to be? -  tell him that I love him, and that he cannot cross the Wall, or he will be hunted down and. . . “

Alex’s voice trailed off, but Anna finished the sentence quietly. “Slaughtered.”

The two were silent for a long moment, then Alex folded the paper back up and tucked it into his rucksack. “I’m still going,” he said quietly. Anna let out a slow breath, not quite a sigh, and the corners of her mouth quirked up.

“I know,” she said. She got up off the bed and crossed to where Alex was leaning against the wall, pulling him into a fierce hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Be careful. Come back.”

“I will,” he said into her hair, hugging her back just as fiercely before letting go. She gave him a half-smile and slipped out of his room. Alex took a last look around his room before swinging his rucksack up onto his shoulder and marching down the stairs.

“Sasha, where are you going?” his mother asked, standing in front of the door and looking up at him with anxious eyes. He scowled at her even as his stomach flipped uncomfortably.

“To stay with Nail for a couple of days,” he said, pushing past her on his way out the door. He heard her call his name as he headed down the street towards Nail’s house, but he didn’t turn around, and she didn’t follow him.

0o0o0o0o0

“Wow,” Nail said, examining the crumpled and faded piece of paper with the cryptic message on it. “And this is about you?”

Alex shrugged. “Anna thinks so. It makes sense, sort of.” He grabbed for the paper, uncomfortable with how Nail was looking at it. “It’s stupid, give it back.”

Nail handed it over reluctantly. “So what are you going to do?”

Alex shrugged again, stuffing the paper back into his rucksack. “It’s only just on the other side of the Wall, right? I’m going after it.”

“But, what about - “ Nail started to say, but Alex glared at him until he stopped. He held up his hands in surrender. “What can I do?”

Twenty minutes later, as they snuck through the quiet town, Nail muttered, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

The Guardian of the Wall was leaning up against the Wall next to the gap. He was a short man - his staff, resting against the gap within arm’s reach, was half a head taller than he was - but he seemed to be built of the same stone as the wall. He had the sort of face that appeared angry no matter what, with a pair of ferocious eyebrows set in a semi-permanent scowl.His eyes were closed, and his arms were crossed over his chest. The muscles in his arms appeared even more impressive in the flickering light from the torch hanging over his shoulder.  Alex gulped, but he started forward gamely.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” the Guardian said without even opening his eyes. Alex stopped so quickly that Nail smacked into his back.

“How did he do that,” Alex muttered to Nail, who raised his hands in confusion. The Guardian barked a laugh, opening one eye slightly.

“I’ve a son not much younger than the two of you. Thinks he’s just as stealthy as can be.” One side of the Guardian’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, there and gone in an instant. “He’s wrong, and so are you, if you think I didn’t hear you coming.” He closed his eye again. “Go home, boys.”

“But I have to cross the Wall,” Alex said, stepping forward again, much more cautiously this time. The Guardian sighed and shifted position slightly, settling his shoulders against the Wall.

“Son, no one crosses the Wall. It’s my job to make sure of it.” White teeth flashed briefly in the torchlight. “I’m very good at my job.”

“It’s important,” Alex insisted, coming closer and closer to the Wall. He was almost close enough to make a dash for the gap -

“Everyone says that,” the Guardian said, unmoved. “It’s not important enough.” He opened one eye again and looked Alex up and down before shutting it again, clearly unimpressed.

“I could pay you,” Alex offered, taking another two slow steps forward. Just one more step and he’d be able to -

He suddenly found himself on his back, ears ringing, looking up at the stars outlining the impassive face of the Guardian. “No. Go home, boy. Next time I’ll hit you harder.” The staff that had appeared in his hands as if by magic nudged Alex none-too-gently in the ribs. “Go on, out of here.”

Alex scrambled to his feet, his face blazing with embarrassment. He felt as though he might be glowing in the dark as he trudged back to where Nail was hovering. “C’mon,” he muttered, heading back towards the village. Nail followed him in silence until they were out of sight of the Wall, then hesitated when Alex abruptly turned north, away from the road.

“Uh, Alex,” he said, a question in his tone. “What are we -”

“Crossing the Wall,” Alex said shortly as he continued north, away from the gap and the Guardian.

“But,” Nail said, scrambling to keep up. “how are you going to - “

“You’re going to give me a boost.”

0o0o0o0o0

“This is a terrible idea,” Nail grunted. Alex ignored him, stretching his left arm up as high as he could.

“Just . . .  a little. . . . further,” he said, straining. Nail whimpered, but he gamely shifted to brace and tried to lift Alex higher. Alex got his hands on the branch he’d been straining for and let out a triumphant noise just as Nail yelped and lost his balance. The two of them went crashing to the ground, Alex on top of Nail. Alex laid there for a moment, stunned.

“Ow,” Nail said plaintively. “Get off, Gally, you’re heavy.”

Alex dug his elbows into Nail in punishment as he levered himself up, ignoring Nail’s pained yelps, then reached down and pulled Nail upright. Nail wasn’t expecting it, and almost sent them both back into the mud. Alex only barely managed to steady them in time.

“Let’s not do that again,” Nail said, twisting around to try and get a glimpse of the backs of his legs. Clouds overhead blotted out the moon, making this impossible.

“One more time,” Alex argued. “I _had_ it, before you fell over.” He stepped back towards the tree, looking up again at the lowest branch, which was several feet over his head.

“Well excuse _me_. We should have brought a light,” Nail muttered, but he sighed and bent over, presenting his cupped hands for Alex to step into. Alex stepped up, and Nail lifted him as high as he could, and Alex -

“Got it!” He strained upwards, heaving, until he managed to swing his feet over to brace them against the trunk of the tree. From there, it was easier to pull himself up, until he was sitting astride the lowest branch, peering down through the gloom at Nail. “Throw me my bag?”

It took them five tries for Alex to catch it. “Your aim is _terrible,”_ he said, leaning down slightly to make sure Nail knows just how much he meant it.

He couldn’t see clearly, but he was pretty sure Nail was making a face up at him. “Your _reflexes_ are terrible. You should have been able to catch it earlier. And I told you we should have brought a light.”

Alex ignored him, swinging the rucksack over his shoulders and settling it on his back before looking at the Wall. Even with the moon behind the clouds he could see the shadowy shape of it looming off to the side. He looked up towards the upper branches of the tree and found the sturdy one that stretched out over the top of the Wall again.

“Right,” he said, reaching out and grabbing for nearby branches to haul himself upright. “Here goes.”

“Alex?” came Nail’s voice, sounding anxious. “Uh. How’re you going to get _back?_ ”

Alex was briefly stumped, standing frozen on his branch, but he rallied quickly. “I’ll come through the gap,” he said. “The Guardian’s only there to keep people from crossing from this side, isn’t he?”

“I guess.” Nail didn’t sound convinced. Alex scowled and began climbing, picking his way over to the branch he’d selected.

He reached it eventually and began edging out along it carefully, holding onto nearby branches for balance. When he ran out of nearby branches, he sat down and slid himself carefully along, lifting his feet over the Wall as he passed it. A shiver of foreboding ran through him as he crossed the Wall, but he ignored it, pressing forward until he reached the point where the branch started to dip under his weight. He swallowed, looking down at the ground, which was barely visible down below him.

“Gally?” Nail sounded a little strangled. “You okay?”

“I’m fine!” Alex said with more certainty that he felt. He grabbed hold of the branch and swung himself over so that he dangled from it, feeling desperately for the ground that wasn’t there. He swallowed, closed his eyes - they weren’t helping much in the dark, anyway - and let go.

He dropped, hitting the ground with a sticky thud and staggering. The mud sucked at his feet, throwing him more off balance, and he windmilled his arms, trying to keep himself from falling over. He finally managed to regain his balance and looked around him, taking stock.

The moon was still covered by clouds, and Alex grimaced. Nail was right, they should have brought a light - although he would have had trouble carrying a lit torch or lamp across the Wall with him.

“Gally?” came Nail’s muffled voice. “You still okay?”

“I’m fine!” Alex called back. “I’m going to go look now. You should probably go home - I’ll meet you there after I get back.”

“Okay,” Nail said. “Be careful.”

“Right,” Alex said, and struck off to the east, towards where he’d seen the star come to earth.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex had been searching for half an hour before he started to get discouraged. He’d thought that the star had fallen pretty close to the Wall, but he’d been tramping through mud and brush and trees without any sign of a fallen star, and was starting to doubt whether or not he’d be able to find _anything_ in this light. He sighed and kept moving, his eyes fixed on the ground, and was surprised when abruptly there were no more trees or brush around him.

He looked up and felt his heart leap with excitement. He was standing at the edge of what seemed to be a circular clearing that had been caused recently. The ground was littered with the splintered remains of fallen trees, and there was a large hole in the ground just ahead, in what looked like the center of the clearing. Alex started forward eagerly, then heard a loud _thump_ and froze.

“Ah, fuck,” said someone from the hole, and Alex’s heart sank. If this _was_ where the star had fallen, he was too late - someone had beaten him to it. He started to turn and go, disappointment welling up inside him - then turned back around and walked towards the hole. Maybe he could bargain with whoever it was, he thought wildly.

“Hello?” he called, peering down from the edge. A shadowy form shaped vaguely like a person moved at the bottom, seeming startled.

“Hello?” said the person. “Is someone there?”

“Uh, yes,” Alex said, feeling foolish, and the person in the hole let out a noisy sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank fuck. I was starting to think I was going to die down here. Can you get me out?”

“I . . . think so?” Alex said, looking down at the hole. He couldn’t quite make out the shape of the person - it sounded like a young man - but the hole didn’t seem _that_ deep. “Uh. How long have you been stuck down there?”

“Since last night,” came the glum answer. Alex blinked and looked back down at the hole, confused.

“Oh. Did you - have you seen a fallen star? I saw the trees, and the hole, and I thought this might be where it fell.” Alex backed up a couple of steps and glanced around, looking over as much of the ground as he could see, but he didn’t see anything that looked like it might be a lump of metal.

“Very funny, wise guy. Are you going to help me out of here or not?” came the voice, sounding testy.

“Sure,” Alex said, shrugging and stepping back up to the edge of the hole. “Here, grab my hand.”

He tried kneeling by the side of the hole and reaching down, but it didn’t feel very stable, so instead he laid out on his stomach - grimacing at the feeling of the mud underneath him - and reached down as far as he could. The other person reached up, and Alex felt fingers brush against his, but they couldn’t quite grab hold.

“Look, how deep is the hole?” he asked after several fruitless tries. There was a motion that looked like a shrug.

“Deep enough that I can’t climb out of it.”

“It doesn’t _look_ that deep,” Alex decided. “You must just be short.”

There was a squawk of outrage from the hole. “I am _not_ short!”

“I bet you are,” Alex said. “Look, I’ll show you,” and he jumped down into the hole.

“Great, now we’re _both_ stuck down here,” the other person said. They were crowded pretty close together - the hole had enough room for two, but only barely. Alex squinted at them, still not able to see them clearly despite being much closer. The hole was a little deeper than he’d thought, but it wasn’t too bad - he’d be able to catch the edge if he jumped.

“No, c’mon, I’ll give you a boost,” he said. “You should be able to grab the edge.”

“And then what about you?” came the question. The other’s voice was skeptical.

“I can reach the edge if I jump,” Alex said. “You could too, if you were normal-sized instead of being tiny.”

A fist came out of the dark and hit Alex hard in the elbow. He grunted and the other yelped.  “Look, do you want to get out of here or not?” he asked.

There was a short, huffy silence, and then the other said, “Fine. But I’m going to laugh when you get stuck down here.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but bent down and cupped his hands. A hand came out of the dark, questing, and found his shoulder, then traced down an arm to his cupped hands. The hand shifted back up to brace against Alex’s shoulder, and a booted foot came out of the darkness, almost catching Alex in the face. He jerked back.

“Oops,” the other said, voice insincere, and Alex scowled as the foot came back out of the darkness and found his hands this time.

“On three,” he said. “One, two, three - “

He heaved upwards as the other person pushed off, and there was a shout of triumph from above him as they got their hands on the edge of the hole and scrambled out.

“Your turn,” the voice said, sounding smug, and Alex’s spine stiffened at the implied challenge.

“Get back from the edge,” he said, bouncing a couple of times on the balls of his feet. He stretched his arms above his head, bent his knees, and _jumped -_

And caught the edge of the hole, hauling himself out easily. He got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head casually. “Told you. Not a problem - you’re just short.”

There was a brief, angry silence, then the other said, “Thanks for helping me out of there.” His voice was grudging. Alex shrugged.

“No problem,” he said. “Can you help me? I’m looking for a fallen star - it should be around here somewhere.”

The other person laughed, sounding incredulous. “Uh, yeah, sure.” There was a pause. “Hang on, _it?_ ”

“Fallen star?” Alex said, starting to look around. “Should be a big chunk of metal. It’s _got_ to be close,” he muttered, taking a few steps away from the hole.

“It’s definitely close,” the other person said, “but I don’t know what you’re talking about, a chunk of metal.” They came over to Alex and held out a hand. “Brendan Gallagher, fallen star.”

0o0o0o0o0

“. . . don’t see why you aren’t bringing him,” Jordan was saying as Jared came into the antechamber carrying his saddlebags. Eric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“He would just slow us down, Jordan,” he said wearily. Jared dropped his bags on the ground and his brothers turned to look at him, three red-blond giants with identical frustrated expressions. “Ahh, Jared, there you are! We were just discussing who to bring along with us, and where we should look first.”

“ _If_ we decide we’re traveling together. I’m waiting for the soothsayer, personally,” Marc said. Eric turned to give him a withering look and Marc held up his hands. “I know that you’re all for charging off into the unknown, but it can’t hurt to ask an informed opinion, and Nash is a good man.”

“Informed,” Eric snorted. Marc and Jordan rolled their eyes. Eric’s opinions about soothsayers were well known, even if literally none of his brothers shared them.

“Yes, informed,” Jordan said. “Nash _is_ a good man. And I don’t understand why you don’t want Jeff to come with us. He’s _your_ squire.”

“You keep talking like we’ve decided to all travel together, Jor,” Eric said, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “I thought that was still up for debate.” He shot a sideways glance at Marc, who wasn’t looking at him but rather up the corridor down which Jared had come. “Anyway, I can’t imagine that I would _need_ a squire. Not on this kind of a journey.”

Jared cleared his throat in a significant manner. Eric frowned a question at him, and Jared looked pointedly just over Eric’s shoulder. He whirled around and stopped short at the sight of his squire holding a tray full of goblets and wearing a hurt expression. “I brought these,” Jeff mumbled. “So that you can toast to a successful journey. I’ll just,” he set the tray down on one of side tables that lined the antechamber and bowed stiffly to all of them. “Have a safe journey, my lords,” he said, turning and exiting the antechamber with the particular posture of those holding themselves together through sheer force of will. Eric made a movement as though to go after him before collecting himself visibly and turning to his brothers with a smile that was entirely forced.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing at the goblets. Jared saw Marc and Jordan both glance from Eric to the goblets and back again before looking at each other, and then back the way Jeff had gone. They looked like they were both doing a kind of inner calculation, but eventually stepped over and each picked up a goblet. Jared picked his own goblet up half a second later, and Eric raised his own last and the four of them clicked their goblets together.

“To a successful journey,” Eric intoned, and Marc rolled his eyes. Eric turned his head to glare at him and Marc smothered a smile.

“I’m sorry, you just - so very earnest and solemn, Eric, it’s like you’re training for the priesthood,” he said. Eric growled and stepped forward, pretending to pour the contents of his goblet over Marc’s head. Marc was pretending to cower away, grinning, when Jordan spoke up suddenly.

“I’m not. . .” he said, blinking dazedly at his goblet. “I think there was something. . .” He frowned, puzzled, before his knees buckled and he dropped it, staggering over to brace himself against the table. Eric put his own goblet down and hurried over to Jordan, followed swiftly by Marc and Jared.

“Jordan?” he said, putting a hand on his arm, and Jordan looked up, eyes unfocused for a moment before they rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor. “Jordan! Get a healer!” Eric shouted, dropping to his knees beside Jordan’s body and feeling frantically at his neck for a pulse before Marc knocked his hand away. Eric turned to look up at him, confused, to see Marc looking sick.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Marc said, face twisting. Eric looked stung and horrified.

“You think - you can’t think _I_ did this?”

“And why not? Your squire brought the wine, proposed the toast!” Marc looked down at his goblet and sniffed at the rim, nose wrinkling. “I suppose that all those _accidents_ ,” he spat, sweeping his arm out to encompass the entirety of the castle, “those were you as well? Talked a good game, hmm, about _cooperation_ , and _not killing each other_ \- to think I almost _believed_ you.”

The blood had drained from Eric’s face. “I thought you knew me better than that,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Marc. “The _accidents_ happened to me as well, _brother_ \- you have doubts? I called for a healer! I thought you _agreed_ with me!” Jared’s eyes darted between the two of them as he backed himself into the corner closest to his saddlebags slowly.

“I _thought_ I did,” Marc said, turning from Eric in disgust. “But apparently I was wrong. Just had to keep us complacent, hmm, while you narrowed down the competition? Too bad it didn’t work - until now. And calling for a healer - a fine way to deflect suspicions.” Eric came up off of his knees stiffly, looking down at Jordan’s upturned face.

“So quickly you accuse me,” he said, quietly. “Perhaps to throw suspicion from yourself.”

Marc froze before spinning around on his heel. “You accuse _me?_ ” he said, dangerous. Eric met his eyes steadily. The anger and betrayal in the antechamber was palpable.

“And why not? After all, you accused me, _brother_ ,” he said, venom in his voice. Marc’s hands clenched into fists.

“You are no brother of mine,” he said, cutting. “If I see you again, I _will_ kill you, I promise you that.”

 Eric’s face could have been carved out of stone. Jared grabbed his saddlebags and began working his way along the wall out of their eyeline until he could slip down the hallway without being noticed. He still heard Eric’s last words, though, spoken clearly into the tense air between his brothers.

“And the same to you. May your journey bring you everything you deserve.”

0o0o0o0o0

“So you’re telling me that stars are _people?_ ” Alex said, sitting on one of the fallen trees that littered the clearing. Brendan sighed loudly and perched on another tree not far away.

“For the last time, _yes_.”

“So what is starsteel?” Alex asked, confused. Brendan shrugged.

“ _I_ don’t know.” There was silence for a beat as Alex tried to digest the fact that starsteel didn’t exist, stars were _people_ , and that his parents were going to be incandescently angry with him. Oh, and Anna was still going to have to marry Lucic.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said with feeling. Brendan nodded.

“That’s about how I feel, too,” he said. “You’re just sitting there, minding your own business in the sky, and then - wham! Weird flying necklace hits you, and you’re falling. And now I can’t get back.” He pauses. “Unless - you don’t happen to know where I could find a Babylon candle, do you?”

“A what?” Alex said, still distracted by his own misery.

“A Babylon candle,” Brendan said. “You know - _how many miles to Babylon? Three score miles and ten. Can I get there by candle light? Yes, and back again._ Those candles.”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t travel by candle light, that’s just a fairy tale.”

“You don’t seem to know very much,” Brendan said. “You don’t know stars are people, you don’t know about Babylon candles - what _do_ you know?”

Alex sat upright, stung. “I know a lot of things,” he said hotly. “I can shoe a horse. I can make plowshares, and rakes and hoes and other tools. I can make swords and knives and jewelry, too.” This last wasn’t really true - Master Jacques had talked about starting to teach Alex some of the more intricate work he was known for, but he hadn’t yet - but Brendan didn’t know that.

“You know about jewelry?” Brendan’s voice was eager. “Can you tell me if this necklace is worth anything, then?” He reached into his shirt and brought something out, holding it out to Alex.

Alex took it held it up to his face, squinting at it, before shaking his head and passing it back to Brendan. “It’s too dark.”

“Oh. Well, maybe tomorrow?” Brendan said, sounding hopeful. Alex shook his head, looking down at his hands.

“I should get back, probably - if starsteel doesn’t exist. . . You’re sure it doesn’t exist?” He looked back up, but Brendan was shaking his head.

“Positive,” he said, and Alex let out an aggrieved sigh, leaning back on the fallen tree and gazing up at the cloudy night sky.

“Well, if it doesn’t exist, I need to figure out some other way to make money really quickly.” He heaved himself to his feet, casting around himself for his rucksack. “It was nice to meet you,” he said, and Brendan shot to his feet, reaching out to grab at his sleeve.

“No, wait - look, you need money, right?”

Alex looked down at the hand on his sleeve, then back up in Brendan’s shadowy face. “Yeah,” he said, slowly.

“Well, I need money too. There’s some towns with markets not that far from the Wall. I bet we can sell this,” he waved the necklace, “for more than enough money to buy a Babylon candle. I’ll give you the rest of it.”

Alex took a moment to think it over. “You’re assuming that necklace is worth anything. How much do Babylon candles cost?” he asked, working through the calculations in his head.

“I - don’t know how much they cost,” Brendan admitted. “But the necklace has to be worth a lot to _someone_ , or they wouldn’t have tried to hide it in the stars.” Alex didn’t even bother trying to puzzle through that sentence, just grunted in acknowledgement and thought for a few more seconds.

“I’ll look at the necklace tomorrow, see if it’s worth anything,” he said, finally. “If it’s not, I can’t promise - “

“ _Thank_ you,” Brendan said with relief, interrupting him.

“- anything,” Alex finished. “Let’s get some rest, and I’ll take a look at your necklace in the morning.”

0o0o0o0o0

Alex was startled awake the next morning by a bird deciding to warm up its voice directly over his head. He groaned and levered himself up just enough to look around, still slow with sleep and confused. He was stiff all over from having slept on the ground, except for a line of warmth pressed up against him. He looked down just as he felt someone shift and move next to him.

“Make it shut up,” a voice groaned, and Alex took his first good look at Brendan.

 _So it wasn’t a dream_ , he thought, taking in the fallen star. Brendan had pale skin with a slight sunburn across the tops of his cheeks and his nose and messy brown hair cut to just above his eyes, which were scrunched closed in displeasure. His nose was short and straight and he had a wide, expressive mouth, currently twisted down in a frown. He had broad shoulders that pressed against a worn white shirt that was open at the throat and a pair of brown trousers that looked awfully tight. On his feet were a pair of sturdy brown boots.

“Get up,” Alex said belatedly, jerking himself away from his study of Brendan. “If you want to get to those markets you talked about last night, we need to leave now.”

“Ugh,” Brendan moaned, rolling over and pillowing his face in his arms. Alex took a moment to appreciate the view before reaching over and poking him sharply in the shoulder a couple of times.

“Where’s that necklace you wanted me to look at?” Alex said, and Brendan muttered something unintelligible before sitting up with a sigh and rummaging in his pocket. After a moment he produced the necklace, which he dropped into Alex’s hands before flopping back down on the ground and putting an arm over his eyes.

“It’s too _early_ ,” he said. Alex ignored him, focusing on the necklace. It was impressive - a massive ruby set in gold. He weighed it in his hands thoughtfully, then shook his head. He hoped Brendan was right and there were market towns nearby, because the only places _he_ knew of to get proper value for the necklace were a week’s journey or more away.

“You were right,” he said, leaning over to drop the necklace on Brendan’s chest. “It’s definitely worth a lot. Put it away so no one can see it. You said there’s markets around?”

Brendan fumbled with the necklace with one hand before giving up and sitting up, putting it back in his pocket. “Like, a day or two that way, I think,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the east. Alex rolled his eyes and got up, brushing himself off as best he could before reaching down and hauling Brendan up after him.

“Let’s get a move on, then,” he said, carefully not thinking about what he was doing. If he thought about it, he’d know that it was stupid, and that his parents were going to be furious, and that Anna would be hurt and worried, and that he should go back.

“What? You want to travel during the _day?_ ” Brendan asked, his mouth twisting in confusion. His eyes were very blue, Alex noticed in an absent way as he frowned.

“Yes?” he said. “When there’s light out, and you can see where you’re going?” He swept his arm out to gesture at the trees around them. “So you don’t fall down any more holes? Next time you might break your leg, and then where would you be?”

“Oh,” Brendan said, sounding doubtful. “I guess - I’m not really used to being awake during the day.”

Alex stared at him for a moment. “That’s - you know what, never mind. _Here_ , on _Earth_ , we do things during the day. You’ll have to get used to it.”

“Fine,” Brendan grumbled, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “So, where are we going? Do you have any food?”

Alex glared at him, speechless, then turned and stomped off towards the east, muttering to himself about useless fallen stars. Brendan trailed after him sleepily.

0o0o0o0o0

It was nearing noon when Bettman pulled his goats to a stop and consulted his runes. He frowned at them and tossed them yet again, yielding the same result. He let out an annoyed breath and cast his eye around, considering and discarding his goats. His gaze fell on a lizard that was sunning itself on a nearby rock and a brief smile crossed his face.

The lizard’s entrails were slightly more helpful than the runes, and he returned to his cart with his face set in thoughtful lines. He cracked the whip over the goats until they were moving, and then some more until they were going fast enough. He spent the rest of the afternoon planning how he would handle the situation. When the rain began to fall, he ignored it, too deep in thought to notice such minor inconveniences.

By sunset, he had arrived in the stableyard of a simple wayfarer’s inn - the only one for miles around. Firelight flickered invitingly in the windows and the sign swayed in the wind, proclaiming it “Les Habitants.” He glanced around furtively, but there were no stable hands in sight, so he worked a minor spell on his belongings, disguising them as books and papers. Then he gathered up his bags and knocked on the door of the inn.

A tall man with dark hair and a cheerful, smiling face opened the door and ushered him inside. “Bonjour, monsieur,” he said. “Welcome to Les Habitants. How can I help you?”

“A room for the night,” Bettman said shortly. When the innkeeper’s smile slipped, he pasted a smile on his face. “Thank you.”

The man smiled again, but it was much smaller this time. He stepped behind the desk by the door and flipped open the guestbook. “You are welcome, sir. May I have your name?”

“Gary Bettman.”

“Very good, sir. Tomáš!”

A shorter man with a goatee and close-cropped hair popped his head around the door from what smelled like the kitchen. “ _Ano_ , Max?”

“Show Mr. Bettman here to room three, please,” Max said, writing something in the guestbook. “Do you have a horse, Mr. Bettman? I can have someone put it in our stables.”

“No,” Bettman said. “No horse. I have a cart and a pair of goats.”

Max blinked, but said, “I’ll have someone take care of them. Tomáš will take you to your room.”

Tomáš nodded respectfully at Bettman. “I can take your bags,” he offered.

“No,” Bettman said, hefting his bags to grip them tighter. “I can take them.”

“Yes, sir.” Tomáš said, and led the way upstairs to the room. “If you care for supper, it is served for another two hours downstairs. David is an excellent cook.”

“Thank you,” Bettman said. He set his bags down on the bed and shut the door in Tomáš’ face. He had much work to do before the star arrived, and not much time in which to do it. He needed to be ready.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex’s stomach was beginning to rumble almost as loudly as the thunder overhead. Breakfast, which had been handfuls of berries picked from bushes on their way through the forest, had been _hours_ ago, and the rain had been pelting down since shortly after the time that should have been lunch, but wasn’t. Brendan, otherwise a cheerful traveling companion, sighed heavily.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” he asked. Alex turned to face him and scowled.

“ _Obviously_ not,” he said. “I told you, I’ve never been on this side of the Wall. I thought _you_ knew where we were going.”

“What? No! I was following you!”

“Oh, _great_ ,” Alex started to say, but the sound of hoofbeats in the distance cut him off. Both of them cocked their heads and exchanged a glance.

“Coming closer,” Brendan said, glancing down the road. They’d found it after an hour or so of walking that morning, and had been following it ever since. The riders were barely in sight but were also heading in the same direction Alex and Brendan had been walking, which made Alex feel slightly better about their choices.

“Should we see if they’ll give us directions?” Brendan asked. Alex thought about it, then shrugged.

“If we can,” he said. They waited in silence as the riders drew nearer, until they were close enough that Alex could make out some of their features. The one in front was tall, tanned and blond and wearing a fierce expression, and he was accompanied by five riders on six horses wearing dark helmets and some sort of uniform. As they got closer the rider in front seemed to notice the two of them and made some sort of signal to his company. The whole company slowed down, and the five riders in uniform broke apart to encircle their blond leader. They all came up to Brendan and Alex, and Alex noticed that all of them were armed and that their weapons were very well made. _What have we gotten ourselves into_ , he wondered, but the blond leader was speaking.

“Terrible weather for traveling,” he said, leaning forward on his saddlehorn while his horse flattened its ears in disapproval and stamped one back hoof. Alex was suddenly and irrationally angry at this man and his horse, sitting there and talking about the weather. He _knew_ it was terrible weather for traveling, okay, because he’d been out here walking in it.

He opened his mouth to say something scathing, but Brendan beat him to it. “It really is,” Brendan said, managing to sound relatively cheerful. “We’re supposed to be heading to Market Town, but we don’t have a map. I don’t suppose you could give us directions?”

The blond man lifted an eyebrow at them before glancing at one of his uniformed - men at arms, Alex  guessed. That probably meant that the blond was important, and Alex belatedly realized that the eyebrow might have been a reaction to his glower. The man at arms was speaking, though, a surprisingly high, clear voice.

“Market Town’s 10 miles that way.” He pointed back towards the Wall. Brendan’s smile fell off his face, and Alex scowled at him. _He_ was supposed to be the one who knew where they were going! “There’s an inn about a mile down this road.” He pointed in the way they’d been going. “You can get a room there and head for Market Town in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Brendan said. He was avoiding looking at Alex, who was glaring at the side of his face. “I guess we’ll do that.”

The blond leader nodded and gathered up his reins, then paused and looked at them, then back at his men. There was a spate of silent communication amongst the mounted group, until a consensus seemed to be reached and the leader turned back to the two of them. “We happen to have a spare horse,” he said briskly. “The two of you are welcome to share it and travel with us as far as the inn. What are your names?”

“Thank you for your generosity,” Brendan said before Alex could get a word in. “I’m Brendan, and this is Alex. We accept.” After that, it would just have been awkward to say anything, so Alex resigned himself to traveling by horseback for the first time.

“I thought _you_ were the one who knew where everything was. We were walking the wrong way the whole time!” Alex grumbled. He watched as the company reorganized themselves so that the spare horse’s packs were redistributed amongst them all. “And have you ever ridden a horse before?” Brendan shook his head and gave him a dry look.

“Star, remember,” he said back, keeping his voice low. “When would I have had the chance to ride a horse? And I thought _you_ knew where we were going!”

“Well I don’t know anything about stars,” Alex said, nettled. “For all I know you could be riding around on horses all the time. And I _told_ you I didn’t!”

“Well, we aren’t,” Brendan said. “It can’t be that hard, though. And you did _not_ tell me, I would have remembered.”

Just then one of the men at arms came up to them, leading the spare horse. “Here, I’ll help you up,” the man at arms said to Brendan, grabbing him around the waist and heaving him onto the horse’s back. Brendan yelped in surprise and clutched at the saddlehorn, swaying a little until he managed to find his balance. Then it was Alex’s turn.

Alex eyed the horse with some trepidation. The horse eyed him back and snorted, tossing its head. Alex squared his shoulders, because like hell was he going to be laughed at by a horse. He knew the theory of getting onto a horse, at least - he’d watched more than a few people swing themselves up onto their horses after he and Master Jacques had finished shoeing them and it looked simple enough.

It turned out to be anything but simple, and Alex was certain that he’d overheard a few badly stifled laughs from the rest of the company by the time he’d finally managed to get on the stupid thing. “Not much of a rider?” the blond inquired blandly, but his eyes were dancing wickedly. Alex’s could feel his face turning bright red, and he scowled as he reached around Brendan and fumbled with the reins until Brendan snatched them away from him.

“It’s been a while,” Alex said curtly. There was another badly stifled laugh from behind him but the blond simply nodded, although his brown eyes were bright with mirth. Brendan’s shoulders were shaking, and Alex was very tempted to shove him off the horse, except that would mean staying out here in the rain even longer, and now that the sun had disappeared almost completely it was starting to get cold.

“Very well,” the blond said, turning his horse and gesturing, and the men at arms fell in behind him as he started down the road. Alex was just glad that their horse needed no urging to go with its fellows, because he had no idea how to get it moving if it hadn’t. They were at the tail end of the group, and being splattered by the mud that all of the other horses kicked up. Alex was pressed tight against Brendan, who was a line of comforting warmth against his front, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Eventually he just crossed his arms over his chest.

It was lucky that their horse wanted to follow the rest of the horses, because Alex could tell that Brendan had no idea what he was doing with the reins. He snickered, and Brendan started to twist around - probably to glare at him - and lost his balance. Alex could feel him slipping off the horse, so he grabbed him around the waist with one arm and held onto the saddlehorn with the other. After a moment’s flailing, Brendan managed to grab hold of the saddlehorn and rebalance himself, but Alex left his arm around Brendan’s waist just in case.

“Thanks,” Brendan said, sounding a little breathless.

“You’re welcome,” Alex said. They rode in silence for several minutes. Alex noticed that the back of Brendan’s neck looked awfully flushed at the same instant that he realized that he’d never removed his hand from the saddlehorn, so both his arms were around Brendan. He dropped the saddlehorn like it had suddenly burned him and crossed his arms over his chest again. “So you don’t _actually_ believe that Shakespeare is the greatest human playwright, right?” he said, picking up the thread of one of their earlier arguments in an attempt to distract Brendan.

Brendan squawked in outrage. “He _is_ ,” he insisted, and started off on a rant about the man’s contributions to the English language and the canon of literature that amused Alex greatly. He found it hard to imagine that stars read much poetry or saw many plays, but Brendan certainly seemed to have a lot of opinions about them. Alex mostly let him talk, sometimes interjecting an opinion (mostly to be contrary) and keeping an eye on him to make sure that he didn’t fall off his horse.

The rant lasted all the way until they reached the stableyard of the inn. There was a brief discussion in the stableyard before one of the men at arms dismounted and went over to bang at the door to the inn.

“Hello!” he called, and the door to the inn was pulled open by a tall white man with dark hair and a cheerful, smiling face 

“Bonjour, monsieur,” he said. “Welcome to Les Habitants. How can I help you?” He looked over the man at arms’ shoulder at the rest of their party and gasped, bowing low. “Prince Eric! My humble establishment is honored.”

The blond leader, who Alex guessed was Prince Eric, looked uncomfortable. “Have you rooms open for the night? We number eight.”

“We have four rooms available, your highness,” the innkeeper said, coming up from his bow.

“We can double up,” Prince Eric said, looking around at his men-at-arms, who all nodded in agreement.

“Very good, sir. I will have my people take your horses right away.” The innkeeper turned into the inn and called, ‘Dale! Dustin! Mike!”

Another tall white man, this one  with wispy blond hair curling around his long face came out of the doorway, followed by a pair of younger men, one shorter than the other, with pale, rounded faces and anxious expressions. All three of them bowed low to Prince Eric before taking the horses from the men at arms, who had already dismounted, Alex realized belatedly. He nudged Brendan in the back.

“We should get off,” he muttered. Brendan, who had finally mastered the trick of it, twisted around to look at him.

“How?” he hissed. Alex glanced around, but since all of the men at arms had already dismounted, he was at a loss.

“You should get off first,” came a voice from his left knee. He looked down to see the shorter of the two young men from the inn looking up at him. “Swing your other leg around to this side, then step down.“

Alex thought about trying it and blanched. “How?” he said. The young man looked at him strangely, then seemed to notice something.

“Oh - you’ve got to put your foot in the stirrup first. Here - “ he reached out and grabbed the stirrup, which Brendan’s foot was occupying. “You, pull your foot out, and let him put his foot in, and then you can switch.”

It took them several minutes to get off the horse, by which time Alex was scowling harder than ever and a number of the men at arms were stifling sniggers badly behind mailed palms. Prince Eric had disappeared inside the inn to make arrangements for all of them to stay, since apparently he’d adopted Alex and Brendan as part of his retinue. Alex wondered dismally how they’d manage to pay him back.

Since Alex and Brendan had been the last off their horse, they followed the rest of the men at arms inside. The innkeeper took one look at all of them from behind his desk and scowled, turning to the man at his side. “Tomáš, fetch our guests tubs in their rooms and some hot water,” the he ordered. The man nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen, and the innkeeper turned back to Prince Eric. “Dinner is served in the common room for another hour, Your Highness, if you and your men would like to order anything.”

“Hot baths sound wonderful,” Eric said, a weary smile on his face, and the innkeeper nodded in understanding.

“The weather has just been awful, recently,” he said. Eric’s face looked odd, for a moment, then smoothed out.

“Yes,” he said, shaking his head. “We wouldn’t have been out in it if we’d had any choice.”

They continued to make small talk while the men at arms stood easily in a half circle behind Prince Eric, and Alex and Brendan stood awkwardly in the background, cold rain water dripping from their clothes. Alex shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable, until Brendan elbowed him in the ribs. After what felt like a small eternity but probably wasn’t more than twenty minutes, the man the innkeeper had called Tomáš came back into the common room and nodded. The innkeeper clapped his hands. “There are hot baths awaiting in the rooms,” he announced. There was an immediate rush for the stairs, and the men at arms paired themselves up automatically.

The steaming hot bath set behind the privacy screen was the best thing Alex had seen all day. He ached to shuck his clothes and immerse himself immediately, but heard Brendan’s teeth chattering and forced himself to let Brendan have the bath first.

Brendan got himself out of his wet clothes quickly and slid into the tub, letting out an indecent groan of pleasure. Alex felt himself flush - it must have been steam from the bath - and gathered up Brendan’s wet clothes and took them out into the hall, where he handed them off to an inn worker. He stood in the hallway, trying to figure out what, exactly, he was doing, until Brendan came out, dressed in a spare set of clothes he must have stolen from Alex’s bag because they were enormous on him, and told him he could have the bath now. Alex almost swallowed his tongue.

“Thanks,” he said, trying for sarcasm. He wasn’t sure how well he managed it, though, because Brendan just turned a sunny smile on him and trotted down the stairs to the common room. Alex walked into the room, expecting to find a tub full of lukewarm water, but the water instead was wonderfully warm and _clean_. Alex wasn’t sure how that had happened - he’d _seen_ Brendan in the bath - but he wasn’t complaining about it. He let out an indecent noise of his own as he slid into the water, and soaked for a while until he heard the clattering sounds of dinner being served down below.

Dinner was a vegetable stew that was not entirely terrible, although Alex had certainly had better. Eric ate none of it, of course, instead choosing to frown at his men and toast bits of bread and cheese from his saddlebags.

“I have taken a vow not to eat or drink anything I did not prepare with my own hands,” he said. His men at arms all made varying sounds of amusement as they tucked into their stew. He scowled around the room. “Shut up, the lot of you.”

“Aye, your highness,” said one of them cheerfully. “As long as we don’t have to eat your cooking too.” Several of the men at arms were female, Alex noticed, including the tall black woman sitting closest to Eric who had been acting like his second in command. She caught him staring and winked at him, and Alex averted his eyes, blushing. Brendan caught the exchange and elbowed him, smirking.

Eric scowled around at them. “I’m only trying to look out for you,” he said, sounding slightly hurt. “My brother could have poisoned the entire food supply. I doubt he’d care if anyone else got hurt, so long as I was dead.”

The air in the common room was suddenly tense and uncomfortable. Then men at arms focused their attention on their food, keeping their eyes averted as Eric busied himself at the fire, trying to cook. “Shut it,” his second in command advised when he let out a curse after almost singeing himself. “You could have had stew with the rest of us if you’d wanted - you can’t imagine that your brother would have poisoned the _inn’s_ food supply. He didn’t even know that we were taking this route!” Eric frowned at her but declined to pick up what was pretty clearly an argument that both of them were tired of having.

The conversation over the meal was lively and entertaining, the men at arms and their commander in good spirits as they traveled in search of an unspecified something. They were joined over dinner by the inn’s other guests, all of whom eyed Eric warily but talked to Alex and Brendan and the men at arms easily. Alex and Brendan were sitting at a table with a pair of men at arms, a man and a woman who introduced themselves as Cam and Cody Ward, and a pair of other travelers, a traveling scholar named Gary and a trader named Angela. Gary immediately got into a heated argument with Brendan about some obscure historical thing that had taken place in the kingdom several thousands of years ago, while Alex mostly talked with Angela and the Wards.

“But how do you _know_ that about the Breaking?” Gary was asking Brendan when Alex tuned back into their conversation. “I can’t find a single source that’s _definitive_ on the subject.”

Brendan opened his mouth to reply and visibly changed his mind at the last second. He laughed a little uncomfortably. “I, uh - I found a primary source, in my travels.” Gary’s eyes gleamed with greed, and he leaned forward, demanding to know where Brendan had found this source. Brendan waffled a little longer before finally telling him something that, to Alex’s untrained ear, sounded completely made up, but Gary seemed inordinately pleased. He vanished into the kitchen and emerged with a round of beer for the whole room, proposing a toast.

“To fruitful journeys,” he said, raising his glass.

“To fruitful journeys,” the room echoed him, everyone raising their glasses in a toast before taking a sip. Alex sniffed at his beer before drinking it and made a face, putting it down on the table without tasting it.

“Baby,” Brendan laughed, taking a deep gulp but then making a face. “Oh, ugh.” He set down the mug as quickly as he could and pushed it away from him. Alex laughed at him, even as the rest of the company took finished them off with every appearance of enjoyment. The meal wound down early, with most of the men at arms heading up to bed. Brendan was yawning as well.

“Go to bed,” Alex told him gruffly as Brendan hid a yawn behind his hand. “We need to get going early tomorrow morning if we want to get to Market Town.”

Brendan looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but another massive yawn changed his mind. “Okay,” he said sleepily, getting up from the table. “See you in the morning.” He climbed the stairs slowly, one hand on the railing all the way up. Alex watched him go, a little worried - Brendan hadn’t seemed so tired before dinner.

“So why are the two of you headed to Market Town?” Eric’s second in command asked, rolling her full tankard back and forth in her hands. “Courting money?” she asked, slyly, and Alex sputtered.

“No!” he said quickly. “It’s for my father. And he needs it to get home.”

“For your father, hmm?” she gave him a look as though she didn’t believe him and Alex colored.

“Not,” he said heatedly, “that it’s _any_ of your business, but my father needs it to pay off his debts. Otherwise my sister will have to marry a terrible man.” He made a face.

“So selfless,” she said, sounding a little disbelieving still and Alex shrugged.

“It’s my family. I’d do anything for them.” She shot a triumphant look at Eric, who scowled. Alex looked between the two of them confused.

“See, Eric, I’m _telling_ you-”

“Leave it, Tanya,” Eric said, sounding weary. “It’s not the same, anyway. He and his sister aren’t competing for the throne.”

“He doesn’t really want to be,” Tanya said, lowering her voice and leaning across the table conspiratorially. “But he’s the oldest of four, you see, so he’s got all these notions in his head about _tradition_ , and _duty_ , never you mind that he and his brothers have already bucked tradition for years.”

“Apparently not,” Eric muttered, but Tanya waved him off.

“You see, _traditionally_ , the princes all fight amongst themselves and kill each other off, so that the last one standing becomes king by default.” Alex must have made a face of disgust at that, because Tanya nodded. “Exactly. Well milord over there decided he wasn’t having any of it, and his brothers followed his lead. So the old king, who’s dying, he had to come up with another way to determine the succession.”

“Tanya,” Eric said warningly, and she rounded on him.

“It’s not like telling him can hurt, Eric,” she said, sounding sensible. “No one but the bloodline can return the color to the stone anyway, right?”

“I suppose,” he said reluctantly, turning to give Alex an intimidating stare. “Don’t spread this around,” he ordered, and Alex shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” he said, and Eric tipped his head, acknowledging the point. Tanya continued the story.

“So his father the king takes his massive ruby necklace and enchants it, right, so that it loses its color until it’s been held by one of the Stormhold bloodline. And then, he makes it fly away and hide itself somewhere. So we’re out searching for it.”

“If you’re going to tell the story, you might as well tell the whole story,” Eric said bitterly, before turning to Alex. “One of my brothers decided that he’d rather start eliminating the competition early and tried to poison all of us. He only got one, though.”

“I’m _telling_ you, I don’t think it was one of your brothers!” Tanya said, frustrated. “Doesn’t that just sound exactly like something the old king would do?”

“If he weren’t _dead_ ,” Eric said, sounding judgmental. Tanya scowled at him.

“He could have set it up _before_ he died, Eric, you _know_ him. Knew,” she corrected herself.

“So he’s dead? The old king?” Alex asked. Eric made a face, nodding.

“The bit with the ruby took it out of him, and he died later that night,” he said. Alex frowned suddenly as a thought struck him.

“A ruby necklace, and he sent it off to be hidden someplace” he said, slowly, and Tanya and Eric’s heads both came up at his tone. Eric sat forward, eyes intent on Alex’s face.

“Have you seen it?”

“Maybe,” Alex hedged. He found himself reluctant to say that it had knocked Brendan out of the sky - he didn’t want anyone to know that Brendan was a star. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought that it probably wasn’t the sort of thing you talked about without permission. And Tanya seemed to be talking about a colorless stone, which Brendan’s wasn’t - Alex thought about it for a moment, then shrugged mentally. They’d said ruby, which the necklace definitely was. He didn’t know how you made a ruby change colors, but maybe whatever it was had worn off?

“Where? Do you have it?” Tanya asked, her tone eager. Alex shook his head, getting up from the table. .

“No - if it’s what I think it is, Brendan has it. If it’s your necklace though, will you pay us for it?” he asked. That was kind of the point of the necklace, after all. Eric nodded.

“If it is, you can name your price. If it is within my means, I will pay it.”

Alex pushed back from the table and started up for Brendan’s room, followed at a distance by Eric and Tanya. When he got to the top of the stairs he paused, frowning. “I thought he was going to bed,” he muttered, staring at the light that was coming from under the door. He strode down the hallway and pushed open the door, taking in the sight that met his eyes with shock.

Gary the scholar  was standing over Brendan’s sleeping form, holding a massive knife and clearly about to cut into him. Alex shouted something and leapt forward, startling him into turning toward him but not into dropping the knife. Alex dodged the knife and shoved him out of the way, glaring. “What do you think you’re doing? I thought you were a traveling _scholar!_ ” The man smiled, slowly, and began advancing on him, knife out.

“You may shout all you want, he won’t wake. Even a mouthful of my sleeping potion will take care of that, once it takes effect. He won’t wake even when I cut out his heart - after which, of course, he will never wake again.” He laughed, and the sound raised goosebumps on Alex’s skin. “A scholar? No, boy -  I am the warlock who will soon be the most powerful being in the kingdom. And you’re just a boy, with no weapons, no special powers.” His smile was cruel as he lifted the knife. “No hope.”

The peculiar rasping sound of a sword leaving its sheath from the doorway caused the man to spin around. Tanya and Eric stood there, mouths set in twin grim lines.

“You alright, Alex?” Tanya asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the warlock - what the hell was a warlock, anyway? Alex was going to have a _lot_ of questions for Brendan when he woke up - even as she spoke to Alex.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice cracking slightly. Tanya and Eric still didn’t look at him, keeping their eyes on the warlock as they advanced into the room.

“Get Brendan out of here,” Eric said, and Alex didn’t have to be told twice. He lunged for the bed and dragged Brendan across it, wincing a little as Brendan thumped to the floor. He heard the clash of steel as Tanya and Eric engaged the warlock but he ignored the fighting going on in the other corner of the room in favor of hoisting Brendan into a deadman’s carry and hurrying from the room as fast as he could, thinking dire thoughts about how heavy Brendan was.

He paused in the hallway, hesitating for a moment, but then Tanya burst out of the room and yelled “Run!”, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him forward. He stumbled a little, but followed her down the stairs and out of the inn. As they ran through the common room, she snatched a set of saddlebags from the back of one of the chairs.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him forward again, and Alex followed her into the stables where she grabbed a pair of horses and pulled them out into the night. “Get on,” she ordered. When Alex just gaped at her she growled in frustration and pulled Brendan from his shoulder and flung him over the horse’s withers before grabbing his foot and lifting it up. “Put your hands on his back and jump,” she said. When he did she _lifted_ , and he was sitting astride the horse and staring at it before he really knew what was going on, while she launched herself onto her own horse. “Follow me,” she ordered, and kicked her horse into motion. Alex kicked his own horse and followed after her, riding off into the night.

0o0o0o0o0

They’d been riding hard for a while when Tanya pulled her horse up and looked back over her shoulder. Alex barely managed to avoid letting his horse plow into hers, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to stay on - not to mention hang on to Brendan -  when he finally got it to stop. He could barely make out the shape of Tanya on her horse behind him, but he thought she was still looking back the way they’d come. He looked too, but the clouds from the ever-present rain blocked out any possible light from the moon and the stars. After several long moments he heard her sigh and fumble around with the saddlebags.

“I know that Eric keeps a flint and lamp in here,” she muttered, then, “Aha!” There was a spark, and then a wavering light appeared a little ways away, illuminating Tanya, who looked weary.

“What _was_ that?” Alex asked, still panting a little. He was trying to get his breath back from running and then riding hard.

“That was a warlock,” Tanya said, riding towards him and peering at Brendan, who was still flopped over the horse in front of Alex. “Is he okay? What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s alive,” Alex said. He could feel Brendan’s chest moving in slow, even breaths. “The. . .  warlock said something about a sleeping potion. What happened to Eric?” he asked, and her face shuttered.

“Freezing spell,” she said. “The idiot stepped in front of me just as the warlock cast a freezing spell.” She turned away. “Going after a warlock with less than five people is suicide. And no one else seemed to be in a hurry to come and help us - you said the warlock gave him a sleeping potion?” she asked, sharply. Alex nodded, and Tanya blew out a breath. “It must have been the beer. Everyone had that beer, even the inn’s staff - except for me and Eric - and you.” She let out a harsh sigh and shoved some of her many braids out of her face. “We need to get as far away from here as we can tonight,” she said, after a moment of thought. “I’ve heard stories about warlocks, but I don’t know how many of them were true - and if _any_ of them were true, we really don’t want to tangle with one.” She frowned at him. “What was he _doing?”_

“I have no idea,” Alex said honestly. He felt Brendan slipping, just then, and grabbed at him, hauling him back so that he was balanced properly again. Tanya sighed.

“Here, let me take him - you’ve never ridden a horse before, have you.” Alex was glad that the dark hid his flush.

“Not before earlier,” he admitted. “And no, I’ve got him.” He was reluctant to just hand Brendan over to a stranger, even a stranger who’d just saved his life.

“Alright, then. You didn’t fall off, so that’s a point in your favor. We could probably make a fair rider of you, given time to work on it.” She tried a smile, but it fell off her face quickly. They sat in silence for a while, and Alex tried and failed not to panic. He was incredibly out of his depth, in a strange country with strange customs and people who claimed to control the _weather_. The only person he knew (sort of) was a _fallen star_ , and he was unconscious and people were trying to _kill him_ (him-Brendan, but also him-Alex, apparently). He had no idea what he was doing, and he wished, suddenly and desperately, that he could go home.

Well, he _could_ go home. There was certainly no one to stop him - he even had a horse, now, which he could probably sell for a couple thousand dollars. The Wall wasn’t too far away, he could reach it before the next night, probably. The money from the horse wouldn’t be enough, but it would be _something_ , he’d have done something to help, they could use all the help they could get. . .

Brendan twitched and mumbled something in his sleep and Alex snapped back to reality. Someone was trying to _kill_ Brendan, although Alex didn’t really know why. He couldn’t just leave Brendan, not like this. He sighed and reached out to push gently at Brendan’s shoulder.

“So what do we do now?” he asked, because despite having decided to stay he didn’t have any sort of idea what he needed to do _next_. Tanya, in their admittedly brief acquaintance, seemed like the sort of person who would know what needed to be done next.

“We take out the warlock,” she said, and Alex gaped at her.

“You just said that trying to take on a warlock with less than five people is suicide!” he said, louder than he’d meant to. Tanya lifted one shoulder.

“I didn’t say that we’d take out the warlock _alone_ ,” she said. “There’s a city, Silver Lake, about half a day’s ride that way,” she pointed in the direction they’d been traveling. “I know some people, there, who can probably help us.”

“Probably?” Alex repeated, not liking that. Tanya shrugged again.

“It’s a place to start - certainly more than we have right now.”

It was hard to argue that point, so Alex didn’t try. “So, do we go - now?”

There was a long silence, and Alex looked over to see Tanya staring off into the distance, apparently thinking hard.

“No,” she said, finally, just as Alex was about to fidget himself off his horse’s back. His horse stamped its back foot several times in disapproval and Alex managed to stop. “No, we should make camp, and sleep for a while. I think we’re far enough that the warlock won’t be able to get here, not before we leave.” She slid off her horse’s back and began rummaging around in the saddlebags she was carrying.

Alex grimaced at the thought of sleeping on the muddy ground, but he was exhausted now that the adrenaline from the fight with the warlock was starting to wear off. He looked at the ground. It was very far away, and this time there was no stirrup to help him get off.

“Alex?”

He looked over, and saw Tanya looking up at him expectantly, holding what looked like a large piece of tarp. She beckoned to him, and he felt himself flush.

“I can’t - I don’t know how to get down,” he muttered, and Tanya let out a weary sigh and tipped her head back.

“Of course,” she said, and came over to him. “I’m sorry, I forgot. Here, let’s get Brendan down first.” She got her shoulders under his torso and pulled him off, while Alex did his best to make sure that Brendan’s feet didn’t knock into the horse and send it skittering off in unexpected directions. He didn’t quite succeed, and had to fight to get the horse back under control. When he finally managed it, he looked back to see that Tanya had gotten Brendan laid out on top of the tarp, and was coming back towards him.

“Alright, your turn,” she said, and went to his horse’s head. She grabbed the reins. “Lean forward - all the way forward, I’ve got her, she’s not going anywhere. Good. Now, swing your leg over and slide down - I promise, she’s not going anywhere, you’ll be fine.”

Alex followed her instructions and managed to get both feet on the ground. When he tried to stand up he staggered, and Tanya reached out to steady him. “Thanks,” he muttered, his face burning. She smiled at him, tired.

“You’re welcome. Now, come help me set up this tarp.”

0o0o0o0o0

“You killed him!”

Jared only had just enough time to dodge out of the way as Jeff’s sword whistled viciously through the air his head had just occupied. He scrambled out of the way as Jeff kept coming, dodging blows that had more force behind them than he’d anticipated. Clearly Jeff had been practicing what Eric had taught him.

“Jeff, Jeff, I _didn’t_ ,” Jared said, dodging another blow and groping desperately for his own sword. “I didn’t kill anyone!”

“Liar!” Jeff’s voice was shaky with rage and his cheeks were blotchy in the flickering light of Jared’s campfire, but his hands on his sword were steady as he aimed another blow at Jared. “You were the one who gave me the goblets, it was your idea, you _killed_ him!”

“No, I didn’t,” Jared snapped, finally getting his own sword free of its scabbard. He parried Jeff’s next blow and stepped into him, locking their blades and forcing Jeff’s down. “He’s _not dead_.”

“Right,” Jeff said, laughing harshly in Jared’s face before breaking away and coming back on the attack. “So the body, lying in the antechamber, the one with no pulse that wasn’t breathing - that’s not your brother? He’s not dead?”

“No, he’s _not_ ,” Jared grunted as he parried yet another blow, spinning away from Jeff and trying to put the fire in between them. “If you would just let me _explain_ -”

“What could you possibly,” Jeff spat, circling the fire warily, “have to say?”

“He’s _not_ dead, Jeff, I brewed the potion I gave him myself. It’s a sleeping potion - powerful, but not fatal. It just gives the _appearance_ of death.” Jared sighed, suddenly tired, and stabbed his sword into the ground, spreading his arms. “We’ve known each other for _years_ , Jeff, did you really think I would kill Jordan? That I would kill _any_ of my brothers?”

Jeff wavered for a moment, then firmed his stance, stalking around the fire to stand next to Jared. “I don’t know _what_ to believe anymore,” he said, his chin set in mulishly. “So tell me your story. If I think you’re lying,” he shrugged, gesturing with his sword.

“Fair enough,” Jared said, pulling his sword out of the ground. Jeff tensed beside him but Jared just put it back in its sheath and placed it next to his bedroll before crossing to the log he had pulled up by the fire and sitting down. He glanced up at Jeff, who was wearing a confused expression. “You might as well sit down, Jeff. You said you wanted me to tell you my story - that could take a while.”

Jeff made a face like he’d just bitten down on a rotten fruit, but he found a stone and dusted it off, pulling it closer to the fire before sitting down on it. He laid his unsheathed sword across his knees in silent warning, and Jared acknowledged it with a faint smile before looking off into the distance and beginning his story.

“You know, at least a little, about the history of Stormhold and its traditions,” Jared said. “So I won’t go into too much detail, just tell you that my father had four sons by his first wife, who died almost a year after I was born. Caught a fever that she just couldn’t shake. Father married again - it’s traditional to have at least seven sons, you know - but she couldn’t conceive, and couldn’t conceive, and finally she just disappeared. I don’t know whether Father had anything to do with it - I wouldn’t put it past him - but he didn’t marry again after that.

We were raised with the spoken understanding that once I turned 16, we would all begin trying to kill each other. Father talked about it at length, the methods he and his brothers had favored in trying to off each other for the throne. He wasn’t around much, but when he was, he liked to speculate on which of us would win. I think he and some of his men were placing bets,” Jared’s mouth twisted in distaste. Jeff had known, vaguely, about the tradition, and the fact that the current crop of princes were bucking it, but he hadn’t known _this_. He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. Jared’s voice changed cadence, and he fell into a formal mode of storytelling, his eyes growing distant.

“Father made a mistake, though - he left us in the charge of his old nursemaid, who was too old to keep watch over four rambunctious boys. And so Eric was the one who watched out for us. And after spending years and years watching out for us, when I turned 16 he found he had no heart for murder. He came up to us, the morning of my birthday, and said that he could not bear to kill any of us, because he loved us, and that if any one of us wanted to be King more than he loved his brothers, to go ahead and kill him then.

None of us would do it, though, so we just sort of - hung there, in limbo. And we kept having these _accidents_ \- you remember, when Marc fell down the stairs, and almost broke his neck?”

Jeff frowned, and nodded. “I think so. Wasn’t Jordan there, at the time?”

Jared nodded, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. “Yes. He went and helped Marc up, and he was horrified - but there was always that hesitation, with the two of them, afterwards, where they both _wondered_.” He paused and took a deep breath, bringing a hand up to rub it over his face. “I think my father greased the stairs.”

There was a moment of silence. “Wait, he _what?_ ”

“He never got over the fact that we were breaking with tradition. I think he was trying to jumpstart the competition. I found him coming out of my room, once, and later that day Eric ended up with one of my ornamental throwing stars in his shoulder. They’d been a gift from the king of Mortenstone.”

“I remember that,” Jeff said, sounding confused and a little horrified. “He was - really quiet for a long time after that. He took us out on an extra long patrol.”

Jared nodded. “I suspected - there were too many close calls, too many times where things were just _too_ coincidental. But no one ever died, so we all just kind of. . . ignored it. Hoped it would go away. Tried to look out for each other as best we could, while also keeping a close watch in case someone tried to stab us in the back.”

There was silence, for a moment, after Jared finished speaking, and then Jeff frowned. “You _poisoned_ your brother,” he said accusingly. “How is that looking out for him?”

“Looking out for his best interests,” Jared said wearily. “He doesn’t want to be king. None of them want to be king, actually. Eric wouldn’t do a bad job of it, if it came down to it, but he’d be miserable. Marc and Jordan, once they figured out we weren’t going to be killing each other, just assumed Eric would be king, since he’s the oldest and it’s ‘traditional.’” Jared’s tone went even more mocking than normal. “They noticed he hated the idea, but he’s too noble to avoid what he thinks of as his duty. Marc and Jordan hate the idea just as much as he does, and what’s more they’d be terrible at it and they know it. They just tried to get the necklace to end the suspense.” He looked down at the ground and spat. “No one bothered to ask me what _I_ wanted - they just assumed I was the same as them.”

“So- you _do_ want to be king?” Jeff seemed repulsed by the idea. “Why didn’t you just kill Eric at the beginning, then, and save yourself the trouble?”

“Because I love my brothers,” Jared said, quietly, staring at the fire. “They would each be unhappy, as king, and since they never asked about my feelings I never spoke up. They wouldn’t have believed me even if I had spoken up. I went to speak to my father, before he died. I told him that his three oldest sons hated the idea of the throne, but I did not, and I would take it if he named me heir, and he laughed in my face. ‘You should have thought of that before,’ he said. ‘You should have killed them while you had the chance.’ So he set up the heirship as a competition.”

“Why didn’t you just tell them?” Jeff demanded. “Before you left? Why poison them?”

“Would they have listened to me?” Jared demanded in return, jumping to his feet and pacing back and forth before the fire. “The idea of being king repulses them so much that they can’t believe that anyone _wouldn’t_ hate it. No, better to do what I did - or failed to do, and dose them all with sleep until I returned with the stone.” He turned stricken eyes to Jeff. “Jordan drank from his goblet too soon, though, and fell asleep before Marc or Eric had taken even a sip. And now my brothers hate and suspect each other.” He sat back down on the log and buried his head in his hands. “They are _so stupid_ ,” he choked out, shoulders heaving. “If they’d only just _waited_. . . Only just _listened_. . . “

Jeff listened to his sobbing breaths for several minutes before reaching out and tentatively putting his hand on Jared’s shoulder. Jared let out a great shuddering gasp and wiped his eyes, straightening his posture and meeting Jeff’s gaze without flinching. “So. You have heard my story. Tell me now, Squire Skinner - am I acquitted? Or judged as guilty?”

Jeff was silent for a moment, eyes far away, before he gave Jared a calm look. “You may be guilty, but only of loving your brothers too well and trusting them too little,” he said. “I think that if you had spoken, they would have listened to you. I _am_ your brother’s squire, after all,” he said dryly. “He thinks very highly of you. He told me so.”

Jared gave a slightly watery smile. “Too late for that,” he said. “So now what are you going to do?”

“Come with you and look for the necklace,” Jeff said, getting up off his seat and stretching. “You need someone sensible along on this quest, it sounds like. Besides,” he said, throwing Jared a grin as he went over to unload his horse, “your brother would be angry with me if he heard I’d let you go off on your own.”

“Are you kidding me, he tried to leave you at home,” Jared muttered, but he didn’t say anything else, just banked the fire and slid back into his bedroll. It would be nice to have a traveling companion, even if that companion was his brother’s annoying squire.

0o0o0o0o0

Marc frowned at Nash. “The runes say what?”

Nash tossed the runes and caught them in his cupped palms again, inspecting them. “The stone travels east, milord.”

“The stone travels,” Marc said, deep in thought. “So it is attached to a person then. Hmm.” He swung himself up onto his horse and waited for the rest of his men at arms to mount. “East, you say?”

Nash bowed as best as he could from horseback. “Yes, milord.”

“Very well.” They rode out, horses trotting along, tails snapping in the brisk morning breeze. They had been riding for maybe half the morning when Ryan pulled up short, sniffing at the air.

“There’s been magic about,” he announced, putting one hand on his sword nervously. “Fearful powerful stuff.”

“Is it still about?” Marc demanded sharply, his own hand drifting to the hilt of his sword. Ryan tilted his head and drew in several slow breaths, considering.

“None active, milord,” he said. “Might be some passive, though, in traps.”

“All right,” Marc said. “Spread out, and be cautious,” he told his soldiers. “Touch _nothing_.”

“Aye, milord,” they chorused, spreading slowly out across the road, hands on sword hilts or busy loading bolts in crossbows. Heads swung warily to and fro as everyone kept an eye in as many directions as possible.

They crested a hill and reined up in shock at the sight of what remained of the inn. The entire front half of it was missing, blown apart and left scattered in chunks across the stableyard. The rest of the walls were scorched black, and there were piles of burned debris that looked like they might have been furniture at some point. Spaced here and there throughout what had once been an inn stood lumps of oddly-shaped, glassy-looking rock.

“Is someone there?” came a voice from under the collapsed roof of what looked like it used to be the stable. “Please, help me!”

“Who’s there?” Mats called, dismounting along with Henrik and Catherine and moving cautiously towards the misshapen pile of wood. Ryan sniffed cautiously, then shook his head - there was no magic that he could smell.

“My name is Lars,” came the muffled voice. “The beam fell on my arm.” There was a noise that sounded like a strangled sob as Mats, Henrik and Catherine picked their way through the devastation towards the sound of his voice.

“Lars, my name is Marc,” said Marc. “Some of my people are going to get you out.” He dismounted, along with the rest of his men at arms, and wrapped his reins around his fist, watching as Chris moved to help the other three lift an enormous crossbeam and set it aside.

“Milord?” Ryan sounded shaken. “I think you should see this.” When Marc turned to look at him, his face was ashen. He was standing beside a pair of the oddly shaped lumps of rock, and beads of sweat were standing out on his face. Marc came over to see what had distressed him so, and recoiled in horror.

It was Cam and Cody Ward, who had been a part of Eric’s personal bodyguard since he’d come of age. They looked like they had been asleep, eyes closed and faces relaxed. Marc exchanged a grim look with Ryan, and they began searching what remained of the inn.

The statues were a mix of Eric’s men at arms and others - Marc recognized Cam, Cody, Nathan, Riley and Isabel. A fist of ice began slowly constricting around his heart as he found them, then tightened suddenly as he came to the last statue of the group.

It was Eric. He was caught in the act of lunging sideways, sword raised in front of him as though to block a blow. He looked angry and tired, immortalized in stone, and Marc couldn’t breathe for a moment as a dozen conflicting emotions battled inside him.

He turned and walked back to where his horse was flicking her ears nervously. Henrik and Chris were helping a tall, blond young man limp his way out of the wreckage of the barn.

“Thank you,” the young man - Lars - said, sounding earnest. Mats and Catherine followed them back the the group. Marc flicked a hand in dismissal.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, can you tell me what happened here?”

0o0o0o0o0

Gary Bettman inspected his runes, wearing a black expression. Thanks to interference from that insolent _boy_ and the prince and his woman, the star had managed to escape his clutches.

He examined his options. The prince was taken care of, turned to stone and left to erode on the plains. The boy and the woman guarded the star, although they seemed not to know what it was they guarded. They would be watchful, but with the application of cunning it might be possible to trap them again. He maintained enough magic to set another trap, although if it came to a frontal assault, he might not have enough saved up.

He pursed his lips and consulted the runes again. The star continued east, towards the market city of Silver Lake. He would follow at a distance and observe. He was patient. He could wait.

Sooner or later they would make a mistake.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex’s mouth was hanging open as he and Tanya (with Brendan, still asleep, draped over the front of Alex’s horse) rode through the city of Silver Lake to meet Tanya’s friends. The streets were lined with market stalls covered in brightly colored awnings. Vendors advertised their wares in loud voices or haggled with customers, taking every opportunity to show off. The people were a colorful mix of races and cultures, wearing clothes in styles and colors that Alex had never seen before, ever. And if that weren’t enough to catch his attention, the contents of the market definitely were.

One stall exhibited a cage full of miniaturized elephants, who waved their ears about and trumpeted noisily. Another held a rack of beautifully woven carpets, which wouldn’t have been so odd except that the owner was sitting on one as it hovered three feet in the air. A woman with unnaturally red hair sat behind a table that contained a field of tiny glass flowers, glowering. A sparkling set of windchimes danced and sang without a breeze, and a jar full of what Alex originally assumed were large white marbles was actually full of eyes, which turned to follow him as he passed. It was one thing, Alex thought, to accept that magic might be real in this strange land. It was quite another to have it demonstrated so clearly and casually right in front of him.

“Oy! Taylor!” Tanya called once they’d ridden out of the market proper and further into the town. Alex could hear the ringing sound of a blacksmith hard at work, but the sound stopped when Tanya shouted and a blonde woman, her face red with exertion, leaned out of a nearby shop.

“Tanya!” the woman called, grinning widely and striding forward. Tanya dismounted and grabbed her in a fierce embrace. They pounded each other on the back as they broke apart and Tanya smiled tiredly at her, still holding her by one shoulder. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Surprise visit, Tay,” Tanya said, her smile fading. “Your brother around?”

Taylor gave Tanya a sharp look. “You’re here, asking about him? I thought you said you wouldn’t put me in the middle - oh.” Her tone softened a little. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and Tanya grimaced.

“I’m sorry, Tay. I’ll tell you all about it, but not out here. It’s a conversation best had indoors. If it helps, I’m not here to arrest him.”

“This must be some story,” Taylor said. The two women looked at each other for a long moment. Alex felt awkward observing their unspoken conversation, so he looked down at where Brendan was laid across his saddle, hoping he might have started to come around in the last few minutes. He had not, but Alex continued to look down until he heard one of them let out a sigh. “All right - _I_ trust you.”

“I owe you big, Tay,” Tanya said quietly. Alex glanced up and then quickly back at the ground - the naked gratitude on her face was staggering. There was a huff, and when he looked up again, they were hugging again. This hug didn’t last as long before Taylor pulled away.

“Yeah, you do - Sid won’t thank me for this. But what are friends for? And speaking of friends, you haven’t introduced yours.”

“My manners,” Tanya muttered ruefully. “Taylor, this is Alex. I picked him up along the way. The snoring lump across the horse is Brendan. Alex, this is Taylor Crosby, best blacksmith in Stormhold.”

Alex nodded stiffly from the top of his horse, and Tanya sighed as she came over to hold the horse’s reins so he could dismount. He maneuvered around Brendan as best he could, and finally managed to get down. They had been riding since the sun had come up that morning, and he was stiff and sore as he looked over at Taylor, who was trying and failing to hide a grin behind one hand.

“Be nice, he’s new,” Tanya said, sounding amused herself, and Alex drew himself up, offended.

“I’ll take Brendan inside,” he said, sliding one of Brendan’s limp arms around his shoulders and hauling him off the horse. He strode off and stopped short, just inside the shop, as he realized he had no idea where to go next.

“Straight ahead, through that door, and to the left,” Taylor said. Alex shifted to look over his unoccupied shoulder and saw her pointing to the back of the shop. He ventured further in and discovered a door hidden by a corner in the wall that lead into a living space. He dragged Brendan over to the couch that Taylor indicated and dropped him off, then paused to arrange him in a position that looked more comfortable. He jumped and scowled when Taylor cleared her throat, and she held up her hands.

“I’m sorry - we got off on the wrong foot.” She held out a hand. “Taylor Crosby.”

Alex wavered for a moment, then shook her hand. “Alex Galchenyuk.”

“You’re a smith yourself, aren’t you,” Taylor said, tilting her head to look up at him and smiling. Alex shrugged, unwilling to comment.Taylor wasn’t as tall as he was but she was solid and well-muscled, and he wouldn’t have put any money on himself in a fight. “An apprentice?” He shrugged again, and Taylor finally let go of his hand, stepping away and heading back towards her shop. “You’ll have to take a look at the forge,” she tossed over her shoulder as she went back outside.

Alex _was_ curious about the forge, but he didn’t follow her immediately. He stood next to the couch, feeling awkward, and looked down at Brendan, who was _still asleep_. He scowled down at Brendan. “You made me carry you for a _whole_ day,” he informed the other man. “You owe me.”

Brendan didn’t say anything to this, so Alex gave up and started back out towards the forge. He heard the sound of hushed voices and stopped just inside the living area, not wanting to intrude. He was about to head back when he heard Taylor say his name, and he paused, curious.

“. . . Alex? Where’s everyone else? Tan, what _happened?_ ”

There was a long silence, and Alex thought for a moment that Tanya wasn’t going to say anything. He edged forward, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping, and peered around the doorway.

Tanya was sitting on one of the benches shoved up against the walls of the forge, hunched over, her face in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. Taylor was sitting next to her, her shocked expression just visible.

“It’s okay,” Alex heard Taylor murmuring, reaching out to smooth a hand down Tanya’s back. Tanya let out a wounded noise and flinched away from the touch, and Taylor’s lips pressed together and her eyebrows jerked down. “Tan? You’re scaring me,” she said, her tone light.

Tanya took a deep, shuddering breath and lifted her head. Alex saw the gleam of tears on her cheeks as she turned towards Taylor. “Eric’s dead,” she said, her voice choked. “And there’s a warlock loose in the kingdom.”

Taylor’s mouth dropped open, but she leaned in and wrapped an arm around Tanya. Tanya twitched, as though she wanted to move away, but Taylor hung on. “Oh, Tanya,” she said, sorrow dripping from every syllable, and Tanya’s shoulders dropped and she leaned into the other woman. Alex hastily backed away from the door and walked back over to Brendan, who was still asleep, and sat down next to him.

“You’d better wake up soon,” he muttered and shoved Brendan’s feet over. “I’m getting sick of carrying you everywhere.”

0o0o0o0o0

Dinner that night was subdued. Alex scowled at the table and picked at his food. After the third time he found himself twisting around in his seat to check and make sure Brendan was still alright, Taylor got up without a word and switched places with him. “Thanks,” he muttered, staring at his plate.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and there was quiet again, broken only by the scrape of forks.

After several long moments, Tanya said, quietly, “I really appreciate this, Tay.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Taylor warned. “Sid hasn’t said he’ll help you.” Her mouth twisted down. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Tanya shrugged. “I am already a traitor to the crown,” she said bleakly. “Why wouldn’t I want to do this?”

“Tan,” Taylor said, sounding fierce, but Tanya pushed her chair back from the table and stalked out of the room before she could finish. Taylor’s shoulders slumped and she tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling. Alex felt even more awkward and out of place, so he scowled harder at the table and pushed his food around even more viciously.

“Would you like to see the forge?”

Alex jerked his head up to find Taylor looking at him. He glanced over at Brendan, almost on automatic, and relaxed a little at the sight of his familiar sleeping form.

“Sure,” he said, after a moment. He _was_ curious. Taylor flashed him a ghost of a smile and got up from the table, leading the way out towards the forge.

Her setup was a little smaller than the one he was used to, back home, but that forge was set up for two or more smiths to share. This was clearly a single-person smithy, and all of her tools were neatly arranged and within easy reach. He inspected a couple, and raised an eyebrow at the quality of the work, grudgingly impressed. “You make your own tools?” he asked, turning to Taylor, who nodded.

“My teacher set it as my final project,” she said. “She said that when I had made my own set of tools that I was my own smith, and deserved my own smithy. Sid and his friends helped me build this place,” she gestured around. “I like it. I get some of my business from the market, people who just wander in, and some from word of mouth, people who have seen my stuff and like it.”

“What do you specialize in?” Alex asked, looking around at the bare walls, and Taylor crossed to a large cabinet towards the front of the shop.

“Arms and armour,” she said, a touch of pride in her voice. Alex walked over to look at the contents of the cabinet and whistled.

The cabinet was filled with gorgeous examples of Taylor’s art. Alex reached out and picked up a beautifully wrought dagger, hefting it. The hilt was exquisitely decorated with scrolls and gilding, and when he brought it into the light he could tell that the steel had been worked to perfection. It would hold an edge for almost forever and was balanced like a dream. Not even Master Jacques could do better work.

“These are - wow,” he said, putting the dagger down reluctantly and picking up a helm. Helms weren’t much called for in Alex’ peaceful town smithy, but he’d seen them and knew that most of the time they looked awkward and unwieldy. Taylor had managed to make them - not beautiful, but functional and menacing.

“So what work do you do?” she asked, tilting her head to look up at him.

“Just general village smithery,” he said, putting down the helm and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Horseshoes, plowshares, the occasional sword or dagger for coming of age. Cookware.” He shrugged, his hands still in his pockets.

Taylor sighed. “You don’t need to sound so defensive,” she said. “I was just curious.” She closed up the cabinet and leaned her forehead against it. Alex felt slightly ashamed.

“Who’s your brother, and why are we waiting for him?” he asked, choosing a question at random from the hundreds he had swirling in his mind. Taylor turned her head slightly to look over at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“My brother’s name is Sidney Crosby,” she said. “And you’re waiting for him because Tanya thinks he might be able to take you to find the Witch Queen of Stormhold.”

“The _who,_ ” Alex said, disbelieving. Taylor pushed herself off the cabinet and turned to face him fully, frowning.

“You’ve never heard of the Witch Queen of Stormhold,” she said, slowly, and Alex scowled.

“No,” he said. “I’m not from around here.” He was getting really tired of everyone knowing things he didn’t know, and talking about things he’d never heard of. “Is she important?”

“Well, she is the Witch _Queen_ ,” Taylor said. Alex felt his scowl deepen. “She’s the only one who might be able to do something about the warlock.”

“Oh.” Alex didn’t say anything else, even though he had a bunch of questions - “deal with the warlock how?”, for starters. He didn’t want to look stupid.

Alex avoided Taylor’s questioning gaze as they turned and walked back into the living quarters. Taylor got out a sleeping mat for him and went off into the back room to check on Tanya. Alex dragged the sleeping mat over beside the couch that Brendan was laying on and started getting ready for bed, washing up as best he could and changing into the spare clothes that Taylor had found for him. They were far too short, he thought, grimacing, but they were clean so he didn’t complain. He dropped down onto the sleeping mat and looked up at Brendan, who was still snoring slightly. He reached out and poked at Brendan’s shoulder.

“Wake up,” he said. Brendan didn’t do anything, so Alex poked his face a couple of times instead. Brendan frowned in his sleep and twitched away, but he still didn’t wake up. “Wake _up_ ,” Alex said, louder - to no effect. He looked around, checking to make sure he was alone, and leaned close to Brendan. “ _Please_ wake up,” he muttered, and jumped back in shock as Brendan’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled drowsily.

“Well,” he said, stretching. “If you’re going to say _please_.”

0o0o0o0o0

Alex stared in shock at the plate, now filled with just crumbs. “ _Wow_ ,” he said, and Brendan belched.

“That was good,” he said, stretching and smiling at Taylor, who was standing in the kitchen hiding a smile behind her hand. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and yawned. Tanya, sitting across from Brendan at the table, covered a yawn as well, and pushed back.

“And on that note, some of us who _haven’t_ been asleep for almost 24 hours are tired,” she said, getting up and wandering towards the guest bedroom. “I’m glad you’re awake, Brendan.”

“It was very nice to meet you,” Taylor said, as she followed Tanya back towards the bedrooms. Brendan waved goodnight to them, then turned to Alex, who was muffling his own yawns behind cupped hands.

“Okay, so just to recap, there was a _warlock_ at the inn?” Alex nodded, and Brendan shuddered, bringing on hand up to rub over his chest. “Thanks for saving me,” he said, and Alex felt his ears heat up. He stared down at the table.

“Oh, well, it was no big deal,” he muttered. “Why was he after you, anyway?” he asked, and Brendan shuddered, his mouth lips pressing together. He looked down at the table, tracing a finger along the wood grain. He was silent for so long that Alex thought that maybe he wasn’t going to answer.

Finally he spoke, his voice so quiet that Alex had to strain to hear it. “Because I’m a fallen star.” He cleared his throat, and glanced up at Alex and then away quickly. “The - the heart of a star is supposed to give you power. And - and immortality.”

Alex’s mouth dropped open. “Immortality?” he managed. “You’re _immortal?_ ”

Brendan raised and lowered one shoulder, clearly uncomfortable. “ _Technically_ ,” he said. Alex frowned.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” Alex started to relax, and maybe feel a little superior, and then Brendan said, “Just kidding, I’m actually 735,” and Alex felt his eyes grow wide. Brendan nodded solemnly for a moment, then giggled. “Your _face_ ,” he gasped. “I’m not 735 either. C’mon, Alex, I’m a _star_. Time is relative.”

Alex gathered what remained of his dignity around himself and stood up. “Well, I’m going to bed,” he said. “You can stay up and giggle if you like.”

Brendan sobered up quickly, reaching out and catching Alex by the sleeve.. “Alex - you can’t tell anyone about me. Please.”

Alex looked down into Brendan’s upturned face. His expression was earnest, but a hint of fear lurked in the back of his eyes. A hot ball of protective anger flashed into existence in Alex’s gut, and he nodded curtly. “I promise,” he said, and the way Brendan visibly relaxed only made him angrier, which confused him. Brendan let go of his sleeve, and Alex headed towards his sleeping mat. He stopped just at the doorway between the kitchen and the living area where he was sleeping and looked back at Brendan, who was watching him. Alex awkwardly raised a hand. “Goodnight,” he said, and Brendan raised a hand to him in return.

“Goodnight,” he said, and Alex fled before he could be forced to deal with any more confusing feelings.

0o0o0o0o0

“I’m _bored_ ,” Brendan whined. He started to drape himself dramatically over the anvil in Taylor’s forge, then straightened up with a wince as it dug into his stomach. Alex, standing behind Taylor in front of the fire, snickered, and Taylor brought a hand up to hide her grin. Tanya, who was standing by the entrance to the shop and watching the passerby, rolled her eyes. Brendan pouted. “There’s nothing to _do_ ,” he complained.

“Says _you_ ,” Alex muttered. Taylor shot him a narrow-eyed glance, and he hurriedly picked up the bellows and began working it, steadily forcing a stream of air across the fire. She nodded in satisfaction and used the tongs to pick up one of the iron bars she had heating in the fire, inspecting it. It seemed to meet with her approval, and she turned and headed for the anvil, gently hip-checking Brendan out of the way. He dodged around her and came over to where Alex was standing, sweating in the heat of the day and his proximity to the fire.

“Entertain me,” Brendan said, and Alex rolled his eyes. He put the bellows down and wiped sweat off his forehead.

“No,” he said, and moved around Brendan so that he could see what Taylor was doing at the anvil. Brendan let out a deep, pathetic sigh and collapsed onto the nearest bench.

“We’ve been here _forever_ , and there is _nothing to do_ ,” he told the ceiling.

“You’ve been here for two days,” Taylor said in between hammer blows. “And _you_ were unconscious for the first one.”

“ _Forever_ ,” Brendan moaned, ignoring this, even as Alex felt a tingle roll down his spine. Two days was enough time for the warlock to have caught up to them, he was pretty sure. Tanya abruptly stood up, propping her fists on her hips.

“All right, this is ridiculous,” she said. “Alex, get him out of here before I kill him.” She rifled through her pockets and came up with some coins, which she held out to Alex, eyeing the two of them critically. “Go get yourselves some clothes that fit, explore the market.”

“What? Why me?” Alex demanded. Taylor’s shoulders were shaking with laughter but her hammer strokes stayed steady.

“He’s _your_ responsibility,” she said. Alex opened his mouth to protest, but quickly closed it when Tanya raised her eyebrows at him. He could tell that having to wait for Taylor’s brother to arrive was making her tense, and he didn’t want to be around when she snapped. He started stripping out of his forge apron as quickly as he could and took the money from Tanya.

“Hey, what?” Brendan sat upright, indignant. “I am not!”

“Shut up before you get us in more trouble,” Alex hissed under his breath. He smiled at Tanya and reached out and grabbed Brendan by the arm, hauling him out into the street.

Alex expected Brendan to jerk his arm away as soon as they were outside, but he didn’t. He followed Alex without complaint further away from the shop, until finally Alex dropped his arm and turned to confront him.

“I’ve only seen you this quiet when you were unconscious,” Alex said, folding his arms over his chest. “And sometimes not even then. What’re you doing?”

Brendan blinked innocently at him. Alex wasn’t fooled. “Doing? Nothing. I am doing nothing.”

Alex raised one eyebrow. Brendan bounced up and down on his toes, grinning, but stayed quiet. Alex blew out a breath and thought for a moment, then his mouth dropped open.

“You got us kicked out on purpose,” he accused, and Brendan’s grin widened.

“Now you _have_ to entertain me,” Brendan said, smug. Alex narrowed his eyes, turned on his heel and stomped off into the market.

He wasn’t able to maintain his frustration for long - the market was too fascinating. Alex knew he was gawking, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself - everything was so _strange_. The only thing that made him feel better was the fact that Brendan seemed just as fascinated as he was. They wandered along, peering into every stall  or shop they passed. One seemed to be lined with miniature clouds, from slight wisps to massive thunderheads, complete with flickering lightning. Another was lined with tapestries depicting vicious battles, and as Alex watched he saw the figures _move_. He stood there for a long time, watching as knights swung embroidered swords at each other until Brendan got bored and hauled him away.

Several streets later, Brendan stopped and looked around with a frown. “Where are we?” he asked, and Alex looked down at him, betrayed.

“I thought you knew where we were going,” he complained. “I was following you!”

“I’ve never been here before!” Brendan said. Alex rolled his eyes.

“Neither have I,” he pointed out. Brendan let out a huff, then cocked his head to one side as his eyes caught on something behind Alex. Alex turned around and saw a shop with a sign on the door that read, “Tailor.” He looked back at Brendan and raised his eyebrows. Brendan shrugged.

“Tanya did say to get some clothes that fit,” he reminded Alex, who plucked self-consciously at the shirt and pants he was wearing. The shirt’s original owner had luckily been about as broad than Alex, but shorter - and he’d had to borrow a piece of rope from Tanya to keep the pants from falling down. He hadn’t been able to do anything about the fact that they stopped about halfway down his calves, though. He let out a put-upon sigh and lead the way over to the shop, hitching his pants up before pushing in the door.

Afternoon sunlight streams through the big windows at the front of the shop, lighting it almost as well as the bright smile of the man behind the counter, white teeth flashing against dark skin. He was wearing a light-colored shirt under a jacket of an unusual dark reddish-purple and a tie of the same color, tied in a fashion Alex had never seen before. Overall, the effect was incredibly striking.  “Good afternoon,” he said, coming around the counter to shake their hands. “And what can I do for you two gentlemen today?”

Alex’s eyes widened and he had to suppress a snort at the word “gentlemen,” and from the look on Brendan’s face he agreed. “We need. . . clothes?” he hazarded. The tailor gave them both a quick glance that nevertheless clearly took in the fact that Alex’s pants were too short and too big in the waist, that his shirt was too short, and that Brendan was practically swimming in the clothes _he_ had borrowed from Taylor. Alex abruptly felt very, very rumpled, especially next to this man and his suit, which even Alex could tell was beautifully made.

“I see,” he said, perfectly polite, and held out his hand for them to shake. “Well, I think I can help you with that. Are you looking for something made to order, or. . . “ he trailed off and looked inquiringly at the two of them.

Alex looked over at Brendan, who shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But - I don’t know that we could afford it, Mr. . . ?”

“Subban. But you can call me P.K., everyone does,” P.K. said cheerfully. “All right, then, nothing too fancy.” He led them over to where a stool was set up in front of an arrangement of mirrors and gestured at the stool. “Who’s first?”

After a brief, silent argument held entirely by meaningful looks, Alex stepped onto the stool. Brendan drifted back to lean against a wall as P.K. produced a measuring tape from thin air and got to work, asking Alex to hold his arms out to his sides and stand up straight.

Alex glanced down at P.K. as he looped the measuring tape around his waist. P.K. was too professional to say anything about it, but Alex saw him eyeing the makeshift rope belt with an extremely judgmental look. Alex had to suppress the urge to assure the other man that these weren’t _his_ clothes, he was just borrowing them. P.K.’s expression was equally silently critical of how short the pants were, how short the shirt was, and the small hole just below Alex’s left shoulder blade. By the time he was done taking Alex’s measurements, Alex was fighting the urge to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“All right,” P.K. said, after jotting some numbers down and stepping back to eye Alex critically. “I think I have some things in the back that should work. Any preferences for color?” He glanced over at Brendan, then back at Alex, and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

“I don’t - we’re not - “ Alex started to say, but Brendan interrupted him.

“Blue,” he said, his voice definite. P.K. grinned at both of them, and Alex felt the back of his neck heat up.

“An excellent choice,” he said approvingly, and vanished into the back of the shop. Alex glared at Brendan, who looked unrepentant.

“What did you do that for,” Alex muttered, and Brendan shrugged, pushing off the wall and coming over to stand next to him.

“You didn’t seem like you cared,” he pointed out. “And I think it’d look good on you.” He leered jokingly at Alex’s reflection in the mirror, and Alex reached down and shoved at his shoulder. Brendan tumbled to the floor, laughing, and Alex deliberately turned his back on him, trying to shove the complicated tangle of feelings squirming through his stomach back down where they belonged.

They were interrupted when P.K. came back out of the back room. “Try these,” he said, handing Alex a stack of clothes and pushing him gently towards a curtained-off alcove in the shop.

As Alex went, he heard P.K. say cheerfully to Brendan, “Step on up, it’s your turn.” He turned around just in time to see Brendan stepping warily onto the stool, as if it might be about to attack him. P.K. caught his eye over Brendan’s shoulder as he moved in with his measuring tape and winked at him, then eyed the clothes meaningfully. Alex ducked his head and quickly pulled the curtain closed before examining the stack of clothes.

It contained three shirts, in varying shades of blue, and two pairs of pants, in dark brown and lighter fawn colors. Alex changed quickly and ducked back out into the main area of the shop.

Brendan caught sight of him in the mirror and let out a low whistle that caused Alex to flush and stumble. P.K. looked up from where he was taking a measurement of the width of Brendan’s shoulders and surveyed Alex with sharp eyes.

“Not bad,” he said after a moment. “Try the other pants.” He went back to taking Brendan’s measurements. Brendan gave Alex a lopsided smile in the mirror and Alex rolled his eyes as he changed again.

The next time he came out, Brendan was standing in front of the curtain holding his own stack of clothes and looking put out. Alex smirked at him and Brendan rolled his eyes as he pushed past Alex into the alcove and pulled the curtain firmly shut. P.K. came over and looked Alex up and down critically.

“Yes, that’s better,” he said after a moment, sounding satisfied. “Those will do nicely.” There was a yelp and a thud from behind the curtain and P.K. turned towards it with raised eyebrows. “Is everything alright in there?” he asked.

“Fine!” Brendan called back, a little breathless. P.K. turned the raised eyebrow look on Alex, who shrugged.

“How much do we owe you?” he asked.

P.K. was about to answer when the sound of the shop door opening caused them both to turn. A light-skinned man with dark eyes came in, dressed all in black and wearing a tall hat with a wide brim that curled up on either side of his head. P.K.’s face split into a wide grin at the sight of him.

“Carey!” he said, delighted, and went over to pull the stranger into a warm hug. “I wasn’t expecting you today!”

Carey lifted one shoulder and let the corner of his mouth turn up. “I felt like surprising you,” he said, his eyes sweeping around the shop in casual familiarity. He nodded politely to Alex. “You’ve got customers - I can wait,” he said, and reached out to squeeze P.K.’s shoulder before striding over to lean against the wall. P.K. turned back to Alex.

“Sorry about that,” he said, still smiling. “As for what you owe me - that shirt and the pants cost two silvers.”

“A silver and three coppers,” Brendan argued, stepping out from behind the curtain, hands on his hips. He was wearing pants in a shade of brown so dark it was almost black, and a light grey shirt that was open at the throat and tight around his arms and shoulders. Alex felt his mouth go dry.

“Two silvers,” P.K. said, looking Brendan over with the same critical expression he’d used on Alex. “And, because I’m a generous man at heart, I’ll throw in another shirt. Try the other set of pants with the green shirt.”

Brendan stepped back behind the curtain. “Two silvers for pants and two shirts for me too,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. P.K.’s smile made Alex think that they probably could have bargained him down, but the money was different enough on this side of the Wall that he didn’t feel comfortable with it. He went back into the curtained alcove, ignoring Brendan’s yelp of protest as he struggled out of the shirt, and came back with a stack of clothes. He fished around in the pockets of his borrowed pants and came out with four silver coins, which he passed to P.K. along with the passed-over pants and one of the shirts.

“Uh,” he said, looking down at the pile of clothes in his hands as Brendan came out from the alcove in pants of a lighter shade of brown and a green shirt. “How much for one of those?” he jerked his head at a display of rucksacks hanging by where Carey was standing up against the wall.

“Two coppers,” P.K. said, and Alex handed the coins over as Carey reached out and tossed a rucksack across the room. Alex nodded his thanks and busied himself stuffing the extra clothes away as Brendan and P.K. argued amiably about the color of the shirt.

The only warning Alex got was the sound of the shop door opening again. He was looking up to see who had come in when _something_ swept through the shop and he was frozen in place, unable to move. His heart stopped briefly, then began beating double-time. _The warlock. He found us . . ._

Alex struggled to move, to turn and see what was going on, but nothing he did made any difference. The spell, or whatever it was, held him completely frozen. He couldn’t move his eyes, or blink, or _breathe_. He was gripped by a sense of being utterly, completely helpless, and felt panic squeeze his heart in his chest. He didn’t know how it was still beating.

From where he was standing, he could see Brendan and P.K., both of whom also appeared to be frozen in the act of turning towards the door. Footsteps echoed against the wooden floor of the shop, and the warlock entered Alex’s field of vision, knife held in one hand.

Alex’s chest felt tight from more than just panic - he was running out of air. He strained every muscle, trying to break free, and utterly failed to do anything as the warlock lifted the knife, aimed it at Brendan’s chest -

_“NO!”_

Something rippled, and then _tore_ in the shop, and Alex was suddenly free. He drew in a deep, shuddering gasp of air and dove forward, tackling the warlock around the knees and knocking him to the floor. The man let out a surprised-sounding “oof,” as he went sprawling. Gasps and other choking sounds told him that Brendan, P.K., and probably Carey had also been unfrozen, and he felt a brief flash of relief that was replaced almost instantly by stabbing terror. He scrambled off the prone warlock and seized Brendan by the hand.

“Warlock, run!” he gasped, but the warlock had already risen to his knees and was between them and the door. Alex froze, and felt Brendan tense behind him as the warlock raised his hands - and then with a hissing noise, a loop of black rope dropped over the warlock’s head and around his arms, pinning them to his sides as it tightened. Something moved at the edge of Alex’s vision, and the hilt of a knife appeared in the warlock’s shoulder. The warlock let out a strangled sound of rage and pain and Alex looked up to see P.K. drawing another knife from under his jacket, his face grim, and Carey holding the other end of the black rope. Carey jerked his head at the door, and Alex and Brendan bolted for it, dragging each other out into the street.

They paused just outside the shop and turned to look back. Another shiver ran through the air and then P.K. yelled in pain as the windows of the shop exploded and sent shards of broken glass flying everywhere. Alex reached out and grabbed Brendan by the hand again and dragged him off down the street.

“But-” Brendan said, craning his head to look behind them as they rounded a corner. “Shouldn’t we - try to help them?”

“He’s after _us_ , not them, he’ll follow us, now _run_ ,” Alex said, and tried to speed up. They saved their breath for running as they pounded past shops that looked vaguely familiar. Alex wasn’t sure where they were heading. His only thought was to try and get as far away from the warlock as possible. A noise like a hundred dogs barking suddenly filled the air, and people suddenly started screaming and running away. He spared a moment to glance over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn’t.

They were being chased, not by the warlock, but by a _thing_ with a black, hairy body perched atop far too many multi-jointed legs and topped with four heads. The heads looked like something you would find on a rabid wolf. Alex let out a sob of terror as Brendan jerked him around a corner and briefly out of the thing’s sight.

“We’re dead,” he panted, running as hard as he could towards the next corner. “We are so very, very dead.”

Brendan made a noise that might have been agreement as they pelted down yet another narrow street, pursued by that terrible cacophony of barking, people screaming and the crashes as stalls and shops were destroyed. Alex saw a narrow opening and dived for it, pulling Brendan into a shadowy alleyway.

“What are you,” Brendan began, but Alex clamped his free hand over his mouth and dragged him up against the wall of the alley. They huddled there, half-hidden behind the bright painted awning of the stall that faced the main road. Alex’s heart was thundering in his ears and the sound of his gasps for air was deafening. He was still holding Brendan by the hand and had the other clamped over Brendan’s mouth, so he felt Brendan stiffen in his arms as the _thing_ clattered past their hiding spot, baying loudly. They stayed very still for several moments after it passed them, then Alex slowly let his hand slip away from Brendan’s mouth.

“Come on,” he said, voice low, and they crept to the mouth of the alley and peered out. The creature was nowhere in sight, but they could still hear it. The barking sounded frustrated now. Brendan tugged at Alex’s hand and tipped his head back the way they had come, a question in his eyes. Alex nodded, and they hurried away.

They had only made it halfway down the street when the barking started getting louder again. They exchanged a look and started running again.

Alex was breathing hard when they pelted around yet another corner and saw the warlock standing in the middle of the street. “Oh, _no_ ,” Brendan moaned. The warlock’s smile was all the more terrifying for how bland and unassuming he looked. Alex glanced around wildly and jerked Brendan back out onto the street where they had been running, feeling his legs and lungs burn with exertion.

Something huge and black _slammed_ into existence on the street ahead of them - another one of the things that had been chasing them earlier. Alex and Brendan skidded to a halt, then turned and started running away again, turning down yet another long narrow street. They could hear the thing behind them, catching up, and Alex thought he could hear the other one as well, coming towards them, following the sound of its fellow’s barks.

His breath was starting to come as sobs, and he could feel Brendan beginning to falter. The thing was gaining on them, and Alex looked up in dread as a piercing whistle rang out and a shadow fell over them, expecting to see yet another black hairy thing breathing down their necks.

.Instead, he saw Tanya leaning over the railing of a massive ship that was hovering in midair, waving at the two of them. “Alex! Brendan!” she yelled, and tossed something overboard. A long rope ladder bounced off the side of the ship and unrolled, hanging over the railing. Alex was momentarily frozen, uncomprehending, but Brendan was not. He darted forward, somehow finding a new burst of energy, and lept for the ladder where it was dangling several feet above his head.

His fingers just caught the edge of it and missed, but by that point Alex had shaken himself out of shock and was moving. “I’ll boost you,” he said, bending over and cupping his hands. Brendan stepped into them and Alex lifted with all his strength. Brendan grabbed for the ladder where it was flapping in the wind - missed - and then caught it by a rung. He hauled himself upward, grunting with the effort, and got his feet on as well. He started climbing, Alex watching in terrified fascination as the wind jerked the ladder from side to side.

“Alex!” someone shrieked, and he whipped his head around. The big black thing had rounded the corner and was heading towards him, fast. He got his arms up, fumbled for the ladder, and _jumped_ , hauling himself up just as the thing closed the distance between them. He shouted in terror and kicked out, managing to catch one of the heads in the jaw. He felt another head snap at his leg, but the angle was wrong and its teeth glanced off his boot. There was an almighty jerk of the ladder, and suddenly he was out of the thing’s range. It howled in frustration, glaring up at him with eight reddened eyes and four frothing mouths, and Alex clutched at the ladder and shuddered. He closed his eyes tightly, then looked up and started climbing the ladder.

It was a harrowing climb, even though it wasn’t very long. The wind knocked him from side to side, and he had a foot slip off the rungs several times so that only his white-knuckled grip on the ropes saved him. When he finally made it to the top, hands reached over the railing and hauled him aboard the ship. He collapsed, panting, in a heap next to Brendan, who was sprawled out on the deck and gasping for breath.

“They don’t _look_ like they’re worth all this trouble,” came a doubtful voice from somewhere above Alex. He laid still for a moment, then managed to pick his head up off the deck to look for the speaker.

The first thing he saw was a pair of sturdy knee-high boots with the tops folded down. Their owner was also wearing a pair of navy blue pants that tucked into the boots, and from this angle, Alex was pretty sure that this person was the owner of the pants he had borrowed from Taylor. He glanced further up, and saw a long dark coat fluttering in the wind, a white shirt with laces down the front, and above that, a pale face with ruddy cheeks framed by a halo of wild dark curls. Sharp hazel eyes peered down at them.

“Hello,” said the man. “My name is Sidney Crosby. Welcome aboard the _Penguin_.”

0o0o0o0o0

Nash threw the runes into the air, caught them, frowned, and threw them again. Marc watched this with barely contained impatience, one hand flexing near the hilt of his sword. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ryan’s horse shift from foot to foot. Chris’s horse stamped and snorted quietly. Nash inspected the runes again and sighed.

“The stone is in Silver Lake,” he said, looking up briefly before going back to studying the runes. “But. . . .” he trailed off and frowned down at his cupped hands. Marc was vibrating with impatience - he _needed_ to get the stone. Silver Lake was right there, not a half hour’s ride away - but he knew better than to interrupt a soothsayer in the middle of an interpretation, so he managed to remain quiet as Nash studied the runes.

“I’m sorry, milord,” Nash said, finally. “There is something else here, but I have not the skill to interpret it.”

Marc let out a heavy breath but waved a hand at him in forgiveness. “No matter, we shall find out soon enough,” he said as Nash stowed the runes in his belt pouch and mounted up. Marc didn’t bother to wait until he was mounted up before he kicked his horse into a canter. He heard his guards curse as they hurried to follow suit, but ignored them. He did his best to also ignore the cold knot of dread that had been congealing in his belly since he’d heard what Lars had to say. _A warlock . . . ._  He pushed the thought aside. _Get the stone_ , he told himself fiercely. _Worry about what to_ do _after._

They reined up just outside the archway that marked the main entrance to the city and Marc frowned. Instead of the normal sounds of the busy market, crashes and screaming drifted out on the wind, mingling with deep snarls.

“Arm up,” Ryan ordered from Marc’s right side. Marc could feel grim looks being exchanged as his guards pulled chainmail shirts and helms from their saddlebags. He pulled out his own chainmail and fumbled with it, gritting his teeth as he managed to pull it on. Ryan was taking deep breaths of the air, his face grim.

“Magic?” Marc asked. Ryan nodded and pulled on his helm. Marc squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them and gestured them forward. His guards circled him, swords in hand and ready to be drawn, and they rode cautiously forward into the tangle of streets that served as Silver Lake’s market.

It didn’t take them long to discover the source of the crashing, snarling, and screaming. Henrik swore under his breath when they turned down onto Cobbler Lane and found themselves facing a magical construct shaped like a giant black spider with multiple slavering wolf heads. The construct let out a series of eerie howls when it spotted them and charged forward. The horses were shrieking in terror, eyes rolling white as they reared and kicked and fought to get away. For a moment there was nothing but a churning mass of hooves and arms and legs and yelling, too much to take in all at once, and then his training kicked in. Marc dropped his sword, pulled his feet from the stirrups and dropped from his mare’s back like a stone, twisting as he went down to avoid being kicked in the head.

He hit the ground with a grunt and immediately had to roll out of the way of a pair of plunging hooves. He groped around for his sword and snatched it up just as the construct reached them and the world descended back into chaos.

Suddenly there were snapping, drooling mouths with razor-sharp fangs everywhere, and Marc heard a scream that cut off abruptly from one of his guards. Marc avoided one set of jaws and slashed at another, managing to get to his knees. He looked around wildly and managed to lift his sword to chop at one of the construct’s legs as it swung down at him, and found his sword turned aside by armored scales. He found out that it had claws tipped like knives when one of them scored a cut across his face as it swung past.

The construct was quick, quicker than a thing that size had any right to be, and Marc had to scramble backwards in an undignified rush to avoid being trampled or savaged. Someone yelled something from his right, but he couldn’t make out the words. He was vaguely aware of his guards appearing to join the fight, but it was as if it were happening a long way off. Everything had narrowed down to the battle with the construct, and they were losing badly, unable to get close enough to the body of the thing to do any sort of damage.

A sharp whistle broke through Marc’s concentration, and in amazement he recognized the whistle as one of the signals used by the army. _Take cover_. He ducked underneath a swipe by one armored leg and drew back, staying low, as something whistled by overhead. He looked up to see that one of the construct’s heads had sprouted an arrow where its eye had been and was now lolling on its neck, limp. The other two heads turned in unison and let out an eerie howl that made Marc’s skin prickle. Another arrow buzzed past his ear and buried itself in one of the joints where the creature’s legs attached to its body, and it stumbled as it lurched forward, snarling. A shadow fell over them, and Marc looked up at the weathered wooden planks of a skyship drifting overhead. The construct paused and threw back its heads, howling at the skyship, which had something dangling from its side. Marc squinted, trying to get a closer look, but then the ship turned and whatever it was disappeared from view.

Ryan came up on Marc’s left, his sword in his hand. On his right, Henrik was grim-faced, and a pair of strangers had joined them. One was a broad black man wearing what had probably been a nice jacket before it had been sliced almost to ribbons and carrying a pair of crossbows. The other was a taller tanned man dressed all in black, a loop of rope slung at his side and a sword in his hand.

“Do you have a plan?” Ryan asked quietly. The construct was still staring up at the skyship, unmoving, howling in frustration. The howl echoed eerily off the buildings of the market, sounding almost as though it came from more than one place. Marc shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at his wound.

“Charge it, try and distract it,” he said. “Try to get underneath, at the belly, see if there’s a weak spot.” He glanced over at the newcomers, eyeing them consideringly. “Can you get one of the other heads?”

“If you can get it to look down, I can get it through the eyes,” said the black man, already reloading his crossbows. “Carey?” He looked over at his companion, who nodded and sheathed his sword, unhooking the rope from his side.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said. Marc nodded at both of them.

“All right. On three?”

“After you,” Carey said with a slight nod, and Marc took a deep breath and charged.

0o0o0o0o0

“Are you sure we’re going the right way? I thought you said this was a shortcut,” Jeff muttered. Jared rolled his eyes and manfully resisted the urge to punch Jeff in the face.

“Yes, I am, and yes, this is,” he said through gritted teeth. “Silver Lake is about an hour’s ride that way, and the runes say that the stone is in Silver Lake.”

“I didn’t know you could read the runes,” Jeff said, suspicious.

“You’re my brother’s squire, not mine,” Jared snapped. “And God forbid you ever do anything except follow after Eric like a lost puppy. You don’t know anything about me.” He turned away from Jeff in a huff.

There was a brief, hurt silence. “Eric talks about all of his brothers a lot,” Jeff said, quietly. “He loves you, even though he doesn’t trust you much. I’m pretty sure he would have said something.”

Jared glanced over at Jeff and stifled a groan. The puppy comparison had been completely accurate, and having upset Jeff felt a little like having kicked one. “I didn’t tell them, for the same reason,” he said eventually. “Eric doesn’t have a lot of faith in soothsaying, anyway. I’m sure you know that.”

“Do I ever,” Jeff muttered, rolling his eyes. “We got lost for two days on patrol one time because he refused to ask for directions or consult the runes.” His head snapped up, his eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that.”

Jared was already cackling. “Too late. Now you have to tell me all about it,” he said. “When was this? How did you eventually get found again?”

Jeff bit his lip but Jared was merciless, constantly nagging him, and so after a few minutes he threw up a hand. “Fine! It was a year or so ago, about three months after he’d made me his squire? And we were out patrolling near the western border, you know, with the swamps-” Jared made a face, which Jeff echoed. “Anyway, I hadn’t figured out about packing, yet, and I misplaced the map. Eric said not to worry about it, he knew where we were going - and then we ended up spending two days in the swamps before he admitted that we were lost and let me ask someone for directions. I was covered in bug bites by the time we got back.”

Jared was laughing so hard he had to hang onto his saddle horn for support, and Jeff smiled reluctantly. “It’s not _that_ funny,” he said plaintively, but Jared just waved him off.

“That’s priceless,” he wheezed. “Oh, man, Eric’s _never_ going to live that down. Did anyone ever tell you about the time he got stuck in the ceremonial suit of armor in the Great Hall?”

“No,” Jeff said, eyes wide and curious. “What happened?”

They spent the next hour swapping stories about their siblings. Jeff had four - three sisters and a brother. The stories made the trip almost pleasant, despite the undercurrent of tension that kept growing as they got closer to the city.

They reined up just inside the archway that led to Silver Lake’s famous marketplace, and Jared frowned, looking around. Shop doors that should have been open were closed, and there were gaps here and there along the street where carts and tents should have been set up. There were a few people on the streets, but they all seemed to be hurrying away from something, not wandering around or shopping. He looked over at Jeff as an eerie howl split the air, and saw that Jeff’s face had gone pale and set.

They reached into their saddlebags and hurriedly pulled out their armor. Jared was distantly glad that he’d remembered to pack it - he rarely went on patrol, which was the only place you needed it - and noticed absently that his hands were trembling slightly as he struggled into the heavy chainmail shirt. Jeff finished arming himself first, and spurred his horse forward to take the lead. Jared fell in behind him as they trotted through the maze of streets, both of them grimly silent as they listened to the sounds of something dreadful happening deeper in the market.

The first hint they had that they’d found the source of the crashing and howling was the horses. They had just turned down the alley between Weaver Road and Cobbler Lane when Jeff’s horse stopped dead and snorted, whites showing all the way around her eyes. Jared’s horse did the same a second later, and both of the absolutely refused to go a step further, no matter what Jeff or Jared tried. Finally Jared gave up and signaled for Jeff to dismount and continue on foot. Jared had barely managed to get off his horse when it turned and bolted back the way they’d come, followed closely by Jeff’s horse.

From the stones of the alleyway something groaned, and Jared looked down at Jeff, who was sprawled on the ground. As he watched, Jeff tried to get up and hissed in pain when he started to put weight on his left ankle.

“My foot was still caught in the stirrup when she bolted,” he gasped as Jared reached down to help haul him upright. “I don’t think it’s broken.” Jared ducked down to let Jeff sling an arm around his shoulders, and together they cautiously limped towards the mouth of the alley that led out onto Cobbler Lane.

The sounds of fighting grew louder as they got closer to the street, so they pressed themselves up against the wall of the alley and Jared leaned out to get an idea of what was happening. A small group of warriors was battling a massive creature not far from the alley where he and Jeff were hiding. He couldn’t see them very well, just a confused impression of many heads and legs and arms and swords. He looked down at Jeff, who had leaned around him to see as well, and raised his eyebrows. Jeff nodded, determined, and they stepped out of the alley.

The humans appeared to be winning. Two of the creature’s heads were lolling lifeless on their necks, and as Jared watched, one of the remaining heads sprouted an arrow in its eye and fell forward. Another head let out a snarl of rage and snapped at one of the people dancing around its many-legged body. The warrior dodged out of the way of the thing’s teeth and tried to stab the creature’s belly, but one of its legs crashed into him and knocked him over. One of his comrades yelled something and knocked him aside as another leg came down, and a dreadful screeching sound filled the air as the creature’s leg scraped along the warrior’s armor-clad back.

A flash of red caught Jared’s eye, and he stared in horror as the warrior attacking the remaining head turned out to be Marc. His brother’s face was set in a rictus of grim concentration as he and another man Jared now recognized as Captain McDonagh fought together against the snapping, snarling head and the flying legs. Jared started forward, intent on helping, but pulled up short when Jeff let out a pained grunt. He looked around, trying to find a place where he could stash Jeff out of harm’s way, but before he could make up his mind, a triumphant yell went up from the group fighting the creature.

Jared looked back, and saw the creature crumple and fall sideways. It lay on the ground and twitched once, twice - and then vanished in a cloud of greasy black smoke that lingered unpleasantly, despite the stiff breeze. Jared gagged at the stench, and Jeff burst out coughing. Jared could hear one of the soldiers retching and he waved his free arm around, trying to dispel the smoke.

“Marc?” He called, squinting to try and find his brother through the haze.

There was a brief, stunned silence, then Marc’s voice. “Jared?” A figure moved in the haze, and resolved itself into Marc, peering at them. “And Jeff? What are you doing here?”

“Trying to help,” Jared said, rueful. “Looks like we were too late, though - good thing you had it handled.”

Marc let out a short, disbelieving laugh, and strode forward to grab Jared in a tight embrace. Jared froze, feeling awkward - he still had one arm around Jeff, and they’d never been a hugging family - but before he had time to decide what to do, Marc had stepped back and was holding him by the shoulders.

“I am so glad to see you, Jare,” he said. Jared looked at him quizzically - it was odd to see his normally laconic brother so demonstratively emotional.

“It’s good to see you too, Marc. Is - is Eric here, too?” he asked tentatively, and felt Jeff stiffen against his side. Marc’s face went through a series of complicated expressions and landed on weary grief.

“No. Jare - “ Marc swallowed hard a couple of times, and Jared’s stomach dropped like a stone. “Eric’s dead.”

Jared yanked himself away from Marc and Jeff, ignoring Jeff’s yelp and wobbling. “He’s _dead?_ What do you mean, dead?” He was seized by an awful thought. “Marc, you didn’t - did you - “

“It wasn’t me,” Marc said swiftly. “I would never - you know I wouldn’t do that.” Jared desperately wanted to believe him, but he could still hear Marc’s words ringing in his ears.

 _If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. I_ promise _you that._

“What happened,” Jeff wanted to know. His voice sounded odd, like his vocal cords had been frozen. “How did he - “ He broke off and turned his face away, but not before Jared saw that his eyes were filled with tears. Marc sighed and scrubbed at his face.

“I found him and most of his men at arms in the wreckage of _Les Habitants_ ,” he said, his voice quiet. “They’d been turned to stone.”

“Turned to stone?” Jared knew he sounded incredulous, and he didn’t care. “Turned to stone _how?_ Was there a basilisk? Did they meet a witch?” He was pacing back and forth, waving his arms, and he could hear his voice climbing in volume. He couldn’t believe it. He _wouldn’t_ believe it. Eric couldn’t be dead - he’d ride up out of the haze of slowly clearing smoke any moment now to tease them about the mess.

“Warlock,” Marc said softly, and Jared scoffed.

“There hasn’t been a warlock in Stormhold in centuries with that kind of power. The witches kill them too quickly. Are you _sure_ it wasn’t a witch?”

“That’s what I thought too,” said a tall man dressed all in black and carrying a sword, coming up to them. “But those kids he was after seemed to think he was one, and after seeing this,” he waved an arm to encompass the destruction around them, and the smoke that wouldn’t go away. “I’m inclined to agree with them.”

“And who are you?” Jared asked. The man wasn’t one of Marc’s men at arms, who were slowly coming over to stand around them.

“Carey Price,” the tall man said, holding out a hand for Jared to shake. Jared stared at it, for a moment, baffled, then reached out and shook it. Carey was looking at him oddly as a slightly shorter, broad black man came up to stand beside him. “And this is my associate, P.K. Subban.” P.K. held out a hand, and Jared shook it this time with less hesitation.

“I’m sorry, we never introduced ourselves,” Marc apologized. “I’m Marc, and this is my brother Jared, and this is Jeff. And these,” he gestured around them to his men-at-arms, “are Ryan, Henrik, Catherine, Chris, and Derek.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” P.K. said. His voice was light and friendly but his eyes were sharp as he inspected all of them. “Thanks for your help with that thing.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Ryan said. “That was some great shooting. You were in the army?”

Both Carey and P.K.’s faces went suddenly, carefully blank. “For a while, a few years ago,” P.K. said casually. “It didn’t work out.”

Henrik and Ryan both seemed even more interested upon hearing that, but it was Chris who spoke next, frowning as he looked past them. “Hey, you - what are you doing?”

The whole company turned to see who he was talking to, and found themselves facing a short, unassuming man with thinning brown hair. His face was bland and of the sort that was usually very forgettable, but his features were currently distorted into a mask of frustrated rage.

“ _That’s him_ ,” P.K. said, almost under his breath, and everyone straightened up and drew their swords, even Jeff, who seemed to have temporarily forgotten his twisted ankle.

“You can’t have it,” the man spat, glaring at their group. He didn’t seem at all phased by the group of armed warriors, just angry. “I’ve worked too hard, and gone to too much effort. You can’t have it.” He threw something into the middle of the group, and as they all dove out of the way of whatever it was, he seemed to flicker, and then vanish.

A deafening howl split the air, and another one of the immense creatures from earlier came charging at them, straight through where the warlock had been standing. It was upon them before they’d had a chance to regroup. Jared hacked and slashed about himself frantically, unable to put so much as a dent in the thing’s armored skin while fangs scored sparks off his chainmail. He tried ducking underneath its jaws and stabbing upwards at its body, but his sword seemed to bounce off.

“No use!” Chris panted from his right. “We tried that on the last one - it doesn’t work. The only way to hurt it is to get it in the eye.”

Jared growled under his breath and fought his way back out to where he could engage with the heads again. One of them was lolling on its neck, a crossbow bolt through its eye, and off to one side he could see P.K. cooly taking aim again. Jared swiped at another of the heads, doing his best to distract it until P.K. fired, and another head went down.

Jared had managed to get into a rhythm of slashes, ducks and dodges when someone nearby let out a choked scream and startled him out of it. He missed a dodge, and one of the creature’s legs came swinging at his midsection, knocking all the wind out of him. He lay stunned on the ground for a brief moment, dazed, before scrambling out of the way as another leg came whipping by, right around head level. He crawled until he was out of the direct danger area before looking around for the source of the scream. When he found it, he felt his heart stop in his chest.

Marc was spread-eagled on the ground, his chainmail shirt stained crimson. Jared shot up off the ground and sprinted towards him, heedless of the battle still going on around him. He grabbed Marc by the arms and hauled him out of danger, even as Marc yelled in pain. Once they were clear, Jared crouched down beside his brother and looked for the wound.

It was easy enough to find - the creature’s fangs had managed a lucky shot, catching the chainmail at its weakest point and punching straight through, tearing a chunk out of Marc’s side. Jared looked wildly around, searching for something he could rip up and use for bandages.

“Jared - promise me,” Marc said, sounding weak - much weaker than the wound warranted, Jared thought.

“Yes, Marc, anything,” he said, and bent down to eye the wound. He caught a whiff of something, something putrid and rotten, and recoiled, looking at Marc with horror.

“Poison,” Marc said, and his voice was fading now. “Jared, promise me - get the stone. Then _get the bastard_.”

“No, no, _no_ ,” Jared said, looking wildly around. They were in Silver Lake - surely there had to be something, there had to be an antidote - but all the herbalists were on the other side of the city, too far away. “No, Marc, _no_ , you can’t die, you can’t - Jordan will never forgive me. . .”

Marc’s heartbeat under Jared’s palm was dying away. “Sorry, Jare,” he murmured, his eyes closing. “Father’d be proud - last man standing.”

“NO!” Jared shouted, shaking all over. Marc’s chest rose, then fell, and did not rise again. “No, Marc, _no no no,_ ” he wept, burying his face in his hands. “No, this is all my fault - oh, gods, Marc, _no_. . .”

A stench filled the air, signaling the creature’s demise. Jared didn’t move from where he knelt beside his brother’s body, sobs crashing through him. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, tentative, and turned to bury his face in Jeff’s shoulder as he knelt beside Jared. He felt Jeff wrap an arm around his shoulders in clumsy comfort as they mourned.

Eventually the tears ran out, and Jared got to his feet before helping Jeff to his. Ryan, Henrik, Chris and Catherine all had suspiciously red eyes, and P.K. and Carey were standing awkwardly to one side of them.

“Orders, sir?” Ryan asked Jared. He was feeling numb and strangely detached, as though viewing everything from a distance.

“Take my brother’s body back to the City,” he said. “Take it, and warn the guard that a warlock is loose that the witches haven’t seen fit to stop yet.”

“Very good, sir,” Ryan said. “And what about you?”

Jared licked his lips. “I will ride to the Witch Queen of Stormhold and beg an audience,” he said. “My brother’s deaths will be avenged.”

0o0o0o0o0

Bettman growled as he rounded a corner and heard his creatures bay in frustration as their quarry escaped. He lifted his hands in preparation for a spell that would rip the skyship out of the air and bring it - and the star - to earth, but as he began the spell, he became aware of the echoing sensation that meant he didn’t have enough magic to complete it.

He snarled in rage as wind filled the skyship’s sails, and it rose higher above the roofs of the market town and started away. He lifted one hand, started to form a fireball - and thought the better of it. A fireball would deplete his magical reserves still further, and the star had ripped apart his stasis spell easily. Too easily - he would have to examine the spell, and see if it could be strengthened, or explore another option.

He allowed the fireball to dissipate in his hand, reabsorbing the magic that had formed it. He would need to hoard his power, and gather more if he could. His first thought was to dismiss his constructs and reabsorb their power, but as he reached out for them, he felt one of them falter and die. Its magic vanished with its death.

Bettman swore viciously - the constructs were difficult to make as well as hard to kill, and were unmistakably the work of a warlock. If the witches discovered him - or worse, discovered the star . . .

He thought furiously for a moment, then decided to keep the second construct. He could reabsorb it, but it was potentially more worthwhile as a distraction than as simple power. He reached out a hand and tapped it on one long leg, impressing on its simple mind a single command. _Follow me._

He strode along the streets towards the place where his construct had died, following the scent of its power, and mused about the star. His quest had been more difficult than he had anticipated - the warriors who had burst into the room at the inn, distracting him and allowing the star’s escape, had been a very unpleasant surprise. As had the boy who seemed to be traveling with the star. Bettman couldn’t understand that - did the boy not understand what the heart of a star was worth? Or did he simply not know what he traveled with?

In his fury at the star’s escape, he had perhaps been a little hasty. He regretted, now, having turned the inhabitants of the inn into stone - it had been a waste of power, he saw now. But he had been so sure that he could catch up to the star quickly - the boy did not look strong enough to carry it very far. By the time he had discovered that they’d escaped on horseback, with another person, he was in a very foul mood indeed, and inclined to make an example of those who thought to thwart him.

Bettman pushed those thoughts away as he neared the street where his construct had been defeated. It did no good to dwell on the past, he knew, and he would simply avoid such a profligate waste of power again - at least until he had the star’s heart firmly in his possession. Then, of course, it wouldn’t matter.

He pushed past the smashed and scattered remains of a market stall and stopped short, staring at the sight in front of him. _Another_ group of warriors, armed and armored like the first, stood in a loose gathering in the area where his construct’s traces were strongest. A few bodies lay scattered around - his construct had exacted a price.

Bettman felt a cold chill slip down his spine. His runes hadn’t warned him of anyone else trying for the star when he’d last consulted them, but a witch or warlock powerful enough to be able to afford this many men to hunt for it would surely be able to conceal their involvement from the runes. He clenched his fists and walked forward until one of them noticed him and pointed him out.

“You can’t have it,” he spat, glaring at the group. _He_ was powerful too, and now that he knew there was another practitioner in the hunt, he would take precautions. “I’ve worked too hard, and gone to too much effort. You can’t have it.” He threw a tracking spell into the middle of the group, one that would attach itself to anyone who survived, and as they all dove out of the way he pulled a cloaking spell around himself. He tapped his construct on the leg again, told it to attack, and slipped away before any of them could think to try and find him.

As he started to retrace his way through the market to the gate, he found himself tripping over market goods and pieces of the stalls, the legacy of the chase through the streets. He felt the magic in some of the goods, and reached out and absorbed it. He needed to hurry, to catch up with the star - but he also needed to refuel, for the coming battle. The other practitioner would surely not let the star go without a fight.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex and Brendan sat huddled together by the mast of the ship, doing their best not to be noticed by anyone. The crew were ignoring them, mostly - a tall, tanned blond who looked to be about their age had thrown them a sympathetic look, and the even taller man with the droopy eyes and the sunburned cheeks was watching them closely, but everyone else was treating them as though they weren’t there. The droopy-eyed man’s accent had caused Brendan to lean over and poke Alex several times in the ribs.

“He sounds like you!” Brendan had hissed. Alex had grabbed his hand to get him to stop poking and had just - not let go, afterwards. He’d told himself it was a preemptive measure, to stop Brendan from poking him again.

“He does not,” Alex had hissed back. Yes, the other man had a Russian accent, but not all Russian accents sounded exactly the same.

“He does _so_ ,” Brendan had said, and Alex had rolled his eyes and dropped it, because it wasn’t worth arguing with Brendan when he could be eavesdropping on the argument Tanya was having with the captain of the Penguin.

“I _told_ you, we need them!” Tanya said, putting her hands on her hips. Sidney shrugged, looking disinterested.

“Yes, but you haven’t told me _why_ yet,” he said. “And until I get a reason, they’re just dead weight.”

Tanya growled. “Why you - I _told_ you! There’s a warlock after them - specifically after them. We need to get them to the Witch Queen’s stronghold!”

Sidney shrugged again. “I don’t know, Tanya - it sounds like _you_ need to get them there, but I still haven’t heard any reasons why _I_ should risk my crew helping you - assuming that I know _how_ to get to the Witch Queen’s stronghold.”

Tanya threw her hands in the air. “Because I’m asking?” she suggested. When Sidney just looked blank, Tanya sighed. “Because I’m asking nicely, and because I’ll owe you a favor, Sid - assuming, of course, that you know how to get to the Witch Queen’s stronghold.” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Sidney’s eyes narrowed. “Is your favor any good?” he asked, suspicious. “You’re here, by yourself, _not_ on Crown business - or you’d have tried that line first. Or no -” He paused and frowned. “You’d have tried arresting me and ‘confiscating’ the ship. Does the Crown know you’re here?”

Tanya’s expression froze. She opened her mouth to say something, but Taylor appeared from out of nowhere to throw an arm around her shoulders.

“Sid,” she said, her voice frosty, and Alex wanted desperately to be somewhere, anywhere else. He’d forgotten he was still holding Brendan’s hand until now, when Brendan let out a hissed breath and started trying to tug his hand away.

“Ow,” he complained, and Alex loosened his grip.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Brendan stopped trying to pull his hand away and turned back to watch the argument, which seemed to have evolved dramatically. Sidney was standing with his arms crossed over his chest while Taylor had her arm around Tanya and was radiating anger. Tanya’s shoulders were slumped, and Alex caught himself thinking that she looked smaller, somehow.

“Taylor,” Sidney was saying, sounding frustrated. “This really isn’t any of your - “

“Sid, you’ve got to just _listen - “_

“An official pardon.”

There was a brief, startled silence from both siblings, then Taylor turned to look at Tanya. “What are you talking about?”

“An official pardon, for crimes of piracy. That’s what my favor is worth.” Tanya straightened up and squared her shoulders.

Sidney’s eyes narrowed. “No one but the King can issue an official pardon.”

“Did she just say _piracy?”_ Alex asked Brendan.

“ _Shhhh,”_ Brendan hissed. “I’m trying to listen!”

Tanya’s expression was bleak. “The captain of the royal guard is authorized to issue such pardons in extraordinary circumstances.”

Taylor’s eyes widened and her arm dropped from around Tanya’s shoulders. “Tan - no. His Majesty would have to be - “

“Dead,” Tanya said flatly. “And he didn’t name one of them his heir before he died, the miserable old bastard. May his ghost rot forever in hell.” Her voice was vicious.

“Согласовано,” said the tall, droopy eyed man. He spat over the railing. Tanya shot him a sharp look, then sighed and continued.

“In cases where the King is, for one reason or another, unavailable, certain of his powers transfer to the Heir, until the King is able to resume his duties. If the Heir is _also_ unavailable, those powers transfer to the captain of the royal guard. So yes, Sid - my favor is good.”

Sidney smoothed his face into a blank expression, but his eyes were bright with calculation. “So. What are your terms?”

Tanya looked off over Sidney’s shoulder, her expression distant as she thought about it.

“Seriously,” Alex muttered to Brendan. “Are we on a _pirate ship?_ ”

“ _I_ don’t know. Now shut up!”

“Transportation,” Tanya said at last. “Transportation to the Witch Queen’s stronghold, and back to the capital afterwards.”

“Very well. In return, I want pardons for me and my whole crew, and no Royal taxes on our earnings.” Sidney folded his arms across his chest.

“Pardons for you and your crew, and a quarter knocked off what you owe in _back_ taxes,” Tanya returned. Sidney rolled his eyes.

“No back taxes, and a quarter knocked off future taxes.”

“For three years.”

“Ten.”

“Three, and the Crown makes you a present of what you still owe on the _Penguin_.”

Sidney tilted his head, considering the offer, then nodded. “Done. And the three years start on the New Year.”

Tanya held out her hand. “Done.”

They shook on it, then Sidney turned and clapped his hands, briskly. “Right! Geno, you know Tanya - put her to work. Tanger, you take those two - start showing them the ropes. Taylor - a word?”

Alex looked around, startled, and found that the crew seemed to have gathered around while he wasn’t paying attention. Now they began to disperse, except for two of them. The droopy-eyed Russian who must have been Geno nodded at Tanya, while a pale, dark-haired man with sharp brown eyes gave Alex and Brendan a long, considering look.

“What - work! I didn’t sign up for work,” Alex said. He didn’t say it very loudly, but Sidney must have heard it, because he answered without ever turning from where he was talking quietly with Taylor.

“You work, or you walk the plank.” Alex blanched.

“Work is fine,” he said hurriedly, and Brendan and Tanger laughed at him.

“You catch on quick. Follow me this way,” Tanger said, and headed off towards the back of the ship. Alex and Brendan followed, tripping over each other and the deck as it moved back and forth under their feet.

0o0o0o0o0

Tanger had taken a great deal of pleasure in detailing what, exactly, could happen to a skyship if the sails failed.

“So if you don’t want to die because your captain couldn’t maneuver in a storm, or avoid the top of a mountain, or lose all sail and have the wind send you crashing into the ground, you take good care of your sails,” he finished, and gestured to a large pile of canvas. “There’s the ones that need patching, and the pile of patching material. If one of em’s got too many holes in it, mark it down, then cut it up and use it for more patches. ” He tossed Brendan a set of shears that Brendan fumbled badly, causing Alex to roll his eyes and snicker. “You can sew, right?” Tanger asked, and Alex nodded. “All right then, you can get started. I’ve got a few things I need to do, but I’ll be back to check on you shortly.”

Brendan eyed the pile of sails dubiously. “Uh,” he said, after Tanger had gone. “So - _what_ are we supposed to be doing, here?”

Alex stared at him. “Do you not know how to sew?” he finally asked. Brendan shook his head.

“You _do_ know how to sew?” he asked, sounding bewildered and Alex frowned at him.

“You thought I was lying? Mama taught Anna and I how to sew patches when we were little,” he said, then winced. Brendan looked at him curiously.

“What’s wrong?”

Alex scowled. “It’s just - my family,” he tried to explain. “I’ve been gone for too long - they’ll be missing me. They’ll be worried.” And didn’t _that_ thought make him feel guilty - he hadn’t thought he’d be gone this long, but he hadn’t exactly been in a rush to get back, either, at first. He hadn’t wanted to have the fight he knew he’d have with his parents as soon as he got back, so he’d agreed to go with Brendan, and now he just - he couldn’t _leave_ Brendan, not with the warlock chasing him. Not with no way to get home - not even if he was starting to get homesick, and didn’t know how much longer this would take. It had already been most of a week, and it would take longer to get back. Alex scowled harder, because he _missed_ his parents and Anna, and that was embarrassing.

Brendan looked upset, when Alex finally looked up from where he’d been examining the deck with suspiciously hot eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think it would take this long. I know it’s my fault.” Alex rolled his eyes.

“It is _not_ ,” he said, and reached out to punch Brendan in the shoulder. “Not _everything_ revolves around you, dumbass. I could have left whenever I wanted.”

Brendan’s face twisted into a complicated expression that Alex didn’t want to try and figure out, so he stumbled over to the larger pile of canvas and started pulling the first sail from the top of the pile.

“Anyway,” he said. “Sewing patches isn’t that hard, I can teach you. C’mere.”

Half an hour later, he was bent nearly double on the deck, laughing helplessly. Brendan was sprawled on the deck, completely wrapped in canvas.

“It’s not that funny,” Brendan said, his voice muffled. Alex couldn’t see his face, but he could tell by the tone of Brendan’s voice that he was pouting. _When did that happen_ , he wondered, then shook his head. It didn’t matter.

“It’s _very_ funny,” Alex corrected him in between fits of laughter. “How did you even manage to do this? I turned around for a _second_.”

“I don’t know,” Brendan groaned, “but can you help me out of here? My arm’s twisted up weird.”

Alex managed to straighten up, still giggling, and went over to find the edges of the sail.”Okay, here,” he said, and started slowly untangling Brendan from the sheet just as Tanger came back from wherever he’d disappeared to and started laughing.

“Oh, _mon dieu_ ,” he gasped, wiping at his eyes. “Duper, Flower! Come here, you’ve got to see this.”

Brendan let out a muffled noise of protest and started wriggling, trying to get out. Alex narrowed his eyes and hissed at him. “Stop that, you’re making it worse!”

Two more of the crewmembers appeared, both of them tall, pale and dark haired. One was slender and had a soul patch on his narrow, sharply pointed and the other was broad, with thick eyebrows and an ever-smiling mouth set amongst thick stubble. They both stared and laughed, and Alex felt himself starting to scowl. It was one thing if _he_ laughed at Brendan. He and Brendan were friends. These strangers shouldn’t be laughing. He yanked harder at the sail, and Brendan yelped as it suddenly came unwrapped and he spilled out of it, flailing awkwardly.

“Ow,” Brendan said after a moment of laying on the deck. Tanger and the other crewmembers were snickering. Alex dropped the sail and held out a hand, but Brendan ignored it and scrambled to his feet.

“Hi, I’m Brendan,” he said to the two strangers, holding out his hand. “Who are you?”

They introduced themselves as Marc-Andre and Pascal, but “you should call us Flower and Duper, everyone else does.” Introductions over, they headed back to their duties - Flower vaulted into the rigging, while Duper vanished into a cabin. Tanger eyed Alex and Brendan critically.

“Did you get any of the sails patched?” he asked, and Alex mutely held up the sail that Brendan had gotten himself wrapped in. Tanger inspected it and declared that he had seen worse. “Not recently, mind you, but I have seen worse. All right, we’ll take a quick break, then you can get back to this. G told me I should teach you how to navigate the rigging before it starts raining.”

“G” was apparently Geno, the giant Russian from earlier. “He’s the first mate,” Tanger explained as he led them over to the biggest of the three masts (mainmast, according to Tanger) and showed them where the hand and footholds were. “Then Duper’s second mate, then Kuni - you haven’t met Kuni yet, have you? He’s the third mate.”

Alex eyed the mainmast dubiously - he wasn’t sure he wanted to climb _more_ things today - but Brendan swung himself up and into the rigging easily, and obviously anything Brendan could do, Alex could do as well. He followed Brendan up as quickly as he could, keeping a nervous eye on the heavy thunderclouds that were starting to loom on the horizon.

They stopped just above the first sail - the mainsail, Tanger said - and Alex watched with horror as Brendan let go of everything and started walking out across the thin wooden beam. “Are you crazy?” Alex shouted, sounding strangled even to his own ears. Brendan turned to look back at him, confused. “What if you fall? You’ll die!” Brendan raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, no I won’t,” he said, sounding like _Alex_ was being the ridiculous one. “I’ve fallen a lot farther than this before,” he said, gesturing down at the ground. Alex made the mistake of looking down and had to clutch the mast for support, feeling dizzy. It was _very_ far. “I’d be fine.”

“Oh, sure you might _survive_ ,” Alex said. He wasn’t so sure about that, but Brendan had a point that he’d fallen farther before. “But there’s a _warlock_ down there, and I don’t think I could get Tanya and Sidney to understand why we need to stop and pick you up.” Brendan rolled his eyes but reached out and caught hold of a rope, holding it up pointedly.

“Aww, you care,” he said, grinning. Alex flushed hot.

“Whatever, if you fall and lose the necklace this whole thing’s been a waste of my time anyway,” he said, and turned away.

There was an odd silence behind him, then Brendan said “Oh,” in a funny voice. Alex turned back to look at him, but Brendan was looking down the mast to where Tanger was climbing up to join them. “Tanger, why’s the ship called the _Penguin?_ ” he asked, still in that odd tone of voice, and Tanger snorted with laughter.

“Geno named it,” he said, swinging himself up to join them and stepping easily out along the beam. Alex eyed the mass of ropes and nets with misgivings - _he_ didn’t want to walk out there. “Because the penguin is a bird that swims instead of flying, and we’re a ship that flies instead of sails.” He chuckled at Brendan’s confused expression. “G’s names usually have some sort of weird logic behind them.” He shrugged. “Sid liked it, so it stuck. Now, c’mere - I’ll show you how the sails work.”

0o0o0o0o0

Thunder rumbled through the air, and Alex put the canvas he was working on down, leaning back on his hands and stretching. “Ah, shit,” he heard, and opened one eye, looking over at Brendan.

“You stab yourself again?”

Brendan blew out a breath and held up his hands. His left thumb had a small red smear on it, and Alex nodded in silent sympathy. Brendan looked ruefully down at the sail, which bore more red smears around each of his patches. “I thought I was getting the hang of it,” he muttered. Alex shrugged and straightened up, leaning forward.

“Your stitches are getting better, but it’ll be a while before you stop stabbing yourself,” he said. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

Brendan opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Tanger ducked into the cabin they’d moved to when it had started raining and eyed the sail they were working on critically.

“Better,” he said. “That’s good. But c’mon, it’s supper time.” He herded them out into the rain and towards the rear of the ship (aft, apparently) and into a large room where two long tables sat with benches on either side. Tanger led them straight to the back wall, where they grabbed plates and filled them from the serving dishes laid out along the counter. Alex and Brendan trailed after Tanger as he headed for one of the long tables and sat down next to a younger guy with fair skin, fluffy blond hair and a mild expression.

“Alex, Brendan, this is Olli,” Tanger said, and Olli nodded affably at them before settling down to the serious business of eating. Brendan sat next to Tanger, so Alex found himself perched on the end of the bench, eyeing an older man with longish dark hair and dark stubble who introduced himself as Matt. They were joined after a moment by three other men, who introduced themselves in turn as Chris, Beau and Ian - or, “Kuni, Sunshine and Colesy,” according to Tanger.

“And that’s Horny and Phil,” he said, pointing to the other table, where a pair of light-skinned, blond, bearded men sat across from each other. “Horny’s the one who’s smiling. And don’t mind Phil - he’s not mad, that’s just his face.”

Alex and Brendan nodded and started eating their supper as the crew talked amongst themselves. After a moment, Alex leaned over and nudged Brendan, who hadn’t said anything since they’d come into the mess. The only time Brendan had been this quiet for this long, he’d been unconscious.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, and Brendan nodded.

“It’s just - it’s been a lot,” he said, looking around the mess hall. Sid, Geno, Tanya and Taylor had come in and sat down at the other table, joining Horny and Phil. “And I’m still not used to being up during the day.”

“Oh,” Alex said, feeling foolish, and turned his attention back to his food, listening to the conversation going on around him with half an ear.

“No, I’m serious,” Colesy said, in between mouthfuls of stew. “I think Hags can take him.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “I’ll wager two shifts that he can’t,” he said. “I still think Phil has the edge.”

On Colesy’s other side, Sunshine was waving his arms. “I’m telling you, it was _huge_ ,” he said. “And those teeth! Man, I’m not sure the pardon’s worth it.” He shuddered.

Kuni and Tanger both shook their heads. “You only say that because you’re new,” Kuni said. “I could happily go the rest of my life without being on the wrong end of the Royal Sky Navy again.”

“But we always get _away_.”

“We’ve _gotten_ away, in the past,” Tanger said. “But not easily, and never intact. Hopefully you’ll never have to learn.” His voice was grim.

“. . . your sister?” Alex caught from the other table. He saw Phil’s shoulders go stiff.

“No,” he said. “I won’t ask her to do that.”

“Why not?” Horny asked, leaning forward. “Witches hate warlocks - she’d thank you!”

“No,” Phil said again, his voice stubborn. “It’s more complicated than that - “

“So, what’s your story?” Alex was jolted back into paying attention to what was going on at his table by Sunshine, who was looking at him and Brendan inquisitively.

“Excuse me?” he said, after swallowing a mouthful of stew.

“What’s your story?” Sunshine repeated, leaning forward. “Where are you from, what are you doing here, why did we have to come and rescue you from the warlock and his giant _things?_ ” He propped his elbows on the table. Olli, Tanger, Colesy, Matt and Kuni all glanced up at Alex and Brendan, expectant. Alex looked over at Brendan, who shrugged.

“I’m Brendan, he’s Alex,” he said, gesturing between them. “We’re not from Stormhold, we got here by accident and are trying to get home, and the warlock was chasing us.” He flicked a glance at Alex, then put his head back down and started eating again. The crew looked dissatisfied.

“You’re not from Stormhold? Where are you from, then?” Colesy asked. Alex lifted one shoulder.

“You’ve never heard of it,” he said, and Sunshine scoffed.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “You’re totally from Russia.”

“I am _not_ ,” Alex said, glaring. It was everyone’s first assumption, it was wrong, and it was annoying.

“Then where are you from?” Kuni asked.

Alex was still pissed off about the Russia comment. “See if you can guess,” he muttered, and spent the rest of the meal shaking his head as the crew came up with increasingly ridiculous places he could be from. Occasionally one of them would throw a place at Brendan, who always shook his head as well.

Everyone was just about finished with their food when Sid stood up from his table and walked to stand at the front of the room. He looked at Tanya for a long moment, and she shook her head but got up and left the room. The crew got quiet, and the room hummed with anticipation - of what, Alex wasn’t sure. He looked over at Brendan, who seemed just as confused.

“If you’re not on shift tonight, suit up,” he said, glancing around the room. “We’re catching lightning tonight.” A cheer burst from the crew, and they got up and began bustling around, cleaning up from dinner. Alex and Brendan exchanged puzzled glances. _Catching_ lightning? And why had Tanya left?

0o0o0o0o0

Catching lightning was _exciting_.

After the announcement in the mess, Alex and Brendan hadn’t been sure what to do, and had wandered around, slightly lost, until Duper had grabbed the two of them and shoved a mass of heavy clothes and boots into their arms.

“Suit up and meet us up on deck,” he said, grinning at them. “We need all the help we can get.” He clapped them both on the back and hurried off after Phil, who was waving at him. Alex stared at the clothes in his hands - they appeared to consist of a long oilskin coat, a broad-brimmed hat, a pair of thick gloves and a pair of dark glass worker's goggles. The boots, when he went to put them on, were too big for him, which made him feel self-conscious until he looked over at Brendan, who was practically swallowed by his borrowed coat and hat. Alex snorted as he slung the goggles around his neck before pulling on his hat.

“Shut up.” Brendan scowled up at him, tipping his hat brim back so that he could see Alex properly. Alex smirked at him.

“Do I need to send a search party after you?” he asked, putting as much false concern into his voice as possible. “You look a little lost in there.”

Brendan glared and tried dig an extremely pointy elbow into Alex’s side. Alex, though, had an older sister, and easily dodged out of the way, shoving one hand in Brendan’s face to keep him at arm’s length. Brendan huffed, and managed to step on the side of Alex’s foot before stomping out of the mess and up onto the deck. Alex followed him, a little uncomfortable in the boots but smug in the fact that his feet weren’t obviously threatening to come out of them the way Brendan’s were.

The crew was clustered around Sid on deck, all wearing variations on the same outfit. The rain was pouring down around them, and lightning flickered and snaked through clouds a little ways off. Thunder growled, and Alex gulped, eyeing the door back into the cabins.

A heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder, and Flower smiled down at him. “Don’t worry, the _Penguin_ is designed to fly in storms. No shh - Sid’s giving out assignments.”

“Kuni, Tanger, Colesy, Olli, Matt, don’t think I don’t see you,” Sid called. “You’re on shift tonight - get to it.” The crew members he had named grumbled, and Sid frowned at them. “You’ll get plenty of chances,” he said, gesturing at the clouds. “Tanya says that we can expect storms at least once a day until the new king is crowned.” The crew brightened up a bit at that. “The rest of you, split up - two per collection station. I’ll be at the wheel. New kids!” Alex felt Brendan shift next to him, and had to fight the urge to fidget as Sid’s sharp gaze fell on them. “Stick with Geno - he’ll show you what to do. Alright, everyone. You know the drill.”

The crew scattered. Alex and Brendan fought their way through to Geno, who, being the tallest member of the crew, was easy to pick out. “What are we doing?” Alex called, through the wind that had started to pick up. Geno grinned at him, his teeth flashing in the rapidly growing dark.

“We catch lightning!” he bellowed cheerfully. “Come, I show.” He led them toward the back of the ship, where a pair of massive metal webs were being unfurled like wings by busy crew members. “We fly through storm, lightning attracted to metal,” he said, pointing. “Is gathered in, like so, comes down to here.” _Here_ were five metal rods that hung down towards deck of the ship, attached to the webs. Geno hefted a canvas tube and twisted off the top. “Catch in cannister, like this. Be quick - fit more than one lightning in cannister, but lightning always try escape. Never jump same way twice.” He smiled at them as the rest of the collection station crew gathered around, readying their canvas tubes and eyeing the rods with anticipation. “Is fun, you see. Put on goggles now.”

And it really was. As they flew further into the massive thunderhead, Alex was still unsure what exactly was going on. Nothing really happened for the first few minutes, and Brendan began fidgeting restlessly as the thunder rumbled from further in the distance. He stilled, quivering, when Flower called out, “Incoming!”

The dark goggles were suddenly explained as a streak of bright white flashed across Alex’s field of vision almost too quickly to follow, snaking along the metal web and dancing down one of the poles. Phil jumped forward and caught the lightning in his cannister, twisting it open just as the lightning reached him and closed as soon as it was all in. He looked triumphant, but before he could say anything someone else was calling another warning, and the lightning catchers leapt to work.

Alex was transfixed, eyes trying to follow all of the action at once. There were occasional curses as lighting leapt away from the person who was trying to catch it, but more often there were victorious shouts as more and more lightning was bottled. The rain that lashed the deck didn’t begin to dim his enthusiasm, and he itched with the desire to try and catch some lightning.

An outbreak of cursing to his left drew his attention, where Flower had misjudged the timing of his latest catch and the lightning he had already bottled leapt back into the atmosphere, thunder booming after it as though it were gloating. Flower shook his hand, wincing.

“Lightning burns,” Geno shouted over the weather. “Even through gloves. Must be careful.” He expertly caught another bolt of lightning and grunted, hefting his cannister. “This full.” He tossed it at Alex, who fumbled a little but caught it. It was lighter than he was expecting and he stared at it as Geno reached down and popped the top off a new one.

“What do I do with it?” he asked. Brendan, who was standing just behind him and a little off to the side, shrugged.

“No idea,” he said. There was a strange tone in his voice, and Alex turned to look at him full on. He looked tense, on the edge of bolting.

“What’s the matter?” Alex asked, and Brendan flexed his hands.

“I know it’s not quite the same, but it’s a little too close for comfort,” he said, staring at the bright streaks of light that were crawling around in the massive metal webs. “The lightning doesn’t seem to be able to think, but still. . . “

“Of course lightning can’t think,” Alex said, snorting. Brendan gave him a pointed look, and Alex frowned. “No, come on - this is completely different. Lightning isn’t a person.”

“That we know of,” Brendan said darkly, and Alex reached over to punch him in the arm.

“It’s _not_ ,” he said firmly. “You worry too much.”

Brendan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. Alex blew out a breath and jumped as Geno tossed him an empty cannister. “Stop talking, get to work,” he said, and threw another empty cannister at Brendan. They stopped talking and bent to their task, bottling lightning as best they could. By the time the storm had died down, Alex was nursing a pair of scorched fingers. Brendan, who had been muttering into a tube of lightning in between bursts of activity, seemed a lot happier since he hadn’t gotten a response. Alex yawned and stretched and looked around - the crew was dispersing. An unfamiliar man, tall and blue-eyed with long blond hair pulled back and away from his pale face came over to them.

“I’m Carl, but you can call me Hags. Follow me, I’ll show you where you can bunk down.” They followed him gratefully, and he showed them to a small cabin near the middle of the ship with a pair of hammocks strung up in it.

“Get some sleep,” Hags advised. “You’ll be up bright and early tomorrow, depend on it.”

Neither Alex nor Brendan said anything as they stripped out of their borrowed rain gear and got ready for bed. Alex climbed into his hammock and felt his thoughts spinning with all of the things that had happened that day. He thought it might take him a while to get to sleep, but he dropped off almost before he heard Brendan’s soft murmur in the darkness.

“Goodnight, Alex.”

0o0o0o0o0

Hags had been right. Alex groaned and rolled over, trying to escape from the insistent pounding. He yelped as two things became clear - he didn’t have a pillow he could have buried his head in to muffle the noise, and he’d somehow managed to shift the hammock in the middle of the night. He threw his hands up instinctively to catch himself as he half-spilled out of the hammock, but he was just a little too late, and only managed to hurt his wrists and palms as well as his cheek and jaw. He laid there on the floor for a moment, groaning, his legs still twisted up in the hammock.

“Alex?” There was a thump, and then Brendan was standing in front of him, frowning. Alex closed his eyes and groaned again. Brendan’s hair was a mess, his face was flushed and soft with sleep, but he looked concerned. An unfamiliar feeling squirmed in Alex’s belly at the sight of him.

“I’m fine,” he said, levering himself up and twisting around to try and get at his legs. He was just glad he hadn’t been wearing a shirt - one less thing to get tangled up in. “Go see who’s at the door?”

Alex saw Brendan twitch towards the hammock like he wanted to offer to help, but he went and opened the door to the cabin as Alex began to tug at the hammock’s webbing. 

“Good morning, fuckface,” came an overly cheerful voice from the door, and Alex twisted himself back around to find the sharp-faced Flower standing at the door, looking far too awake for this time of the morning. “Rise and shine - time for breakfast.” He glanced past Brendan and his face sprouted a gleeful smile as he took in Alex’s predicament. “All tied up, eh?”

The words were innocent enough, but his tone was dripping with enough innuendo to drown a man. Alex felt his ears and the back of his neck burning.

“None of your business,” Brendan snapped, and slammed the cabin door shut in Flower’s face. Alex turned back to the hammock and tugged on it with even more force, but he was at a bad angle and had no leverage. He bit his lip and tugged again, and jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Let me help, eh?”

Alex grunted but let Brendan rearrange his legs so that he could finally slide them out of the hammock. He got to his feet, wincing a little as the blood flowed back into his legs, and muttered, “Thanks.” He stretched a little and started rooting around in his rucksack to find a clean shirt.

“You’re welcome,” Brendan said. His cheeks were still flushed with the remains of sleep and he didn’t seem to want to meet Alex’s eyes. “You ready for breakfast?”

Alex shrugged like he didn’t care, but his stomach growled. Brendan snickered a little, and Alex scowled and punched him in the shoulder. That seemed to break whatever strange mood Brendan had been in, and he was wearing his usual smile as they walked towards the mess hall.

Flower caught them as they were about to leave the mess, wearing a grin that made Alex distinctly nervous. “Newbies! You’re on dish duty today.” He gestured towards a door at the back of the mess hall. “The galley’s back there. When you’re done, come out on deck and you can finish mending the sails.”

Alex grumbled, but mindful of Sid’s warning the day before, he trudged over to the galley, Brendan close behind. He pushed open the door and walked through and into a sudden shower of icy cold water as the bucket that had been rigged above the door emptied itself onto his head.

Alex let out a noise that was definitely not a yelp at the feeling of suddenly being soaked through. He heard Brendan sputtering behind him and turned to see that he had been close enough to get splashed as well. Looking past him, Alex could see that Flower was laughing at them both, his eyes crinkled up. The other crew in the mess were laughing as well, and Alex nearly caught fire with embarrassment. He swiped his dripping hair off his forehead and narrowed his eyes at all of them, silently vowing revenge, before stomping into the galley and slamming the door behind him with extreme prejudice.

The door opened again a second later and Alex heard Brendan come in. “Ugh,” he muttered. Alex was expecting something more than just “Ugh,” so when Brendan didn’t say anything else he looked up from where he was inspecting the (rather small) pile of dishes in the sink.

Brendan was watching Alex with a strange expression on his face, a hint of color high up on his cheeks from the heat of the galley. Alex glanced down at himself to see what had caught Brendan’s attention, and scowled. The bucket of water had soaked him completely, and his shirt and pants were plastered to his body. He was shivering, he realized, even in the warmth of the galley - he felt goosebumps coming up all over his skin.

“Fuckers,” he muttered, and started trying to peel himself out of his shirt. He managed to get it up over his head, but something got caught around his shoulders and he flailed momentarily, struggling to free his arms.

Brendan made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh, then let out a sigh. “Let me help with that,” he said, coming over and tugging at the shirt. It came free, and Alex looked down at Brendan, who was suddenly standing very close and biting his lip. Alex’s breath caught in his throat, and he had the sudden urge to bite Brendan’s lip for him. He felt himself leaning forward - then Flower opened the galley door and Alex, feeling awkward, jerked himself away from Brendan and over to start pumping water into the sink.

“You’re not done yet? So slow,” Flower said. Alex could hear the smirk in his voice but he kept his face down and focused on pumping the exact right amount of water into the sink so he wouldn’t have to look at Flower, or at Brendan. God, he’d almost _kissed_ Brendan -

 _He’s leaving_ , Alex told himself firmly, as Flower left, calling “Don’t break anything,” over his shoulder. _He’s leaving as soon as we get a Babylon candle. And I have to get back home_.

There was an awkward silence in the galley for a moment, then Brendan came over to the sink. “So, how do I do this?” he asked, and Alex turned to him in shock.

“You’ve never _washed dishes?_ How do stars even live?” Brendan opened his mouth to reply, but Alex waved him off, not wanting to think about it. “Never mind. Here - you start by scraping them off.”

0o0o0o0o0

The sky was clear, for the moment, so when they were finished with the dishes Alex and Brendan hauled the pile of sails that still needed mending out onto an upper deck and started slowly working their way through them. They had meant to have them finished by the time they were called in to lunch, but they kept getting distracted by the spectacle going on one deck below.

The crew of the _Penguin_ was taking the opportunity offered by the cooperative weather to spar with each other. From where they were working on the upper deck, Alex and Brendan had an excellent view of the open deck they were using to practice, and Alex often found his attention straying to the matches below.

At the moment, Phil and Hags were facing off, swords held loosely at their sides, just looking at each other. Finally Phil said something that Alex couldn’t catch but that made Hags grin. Phil darted forward, his sword moving in a blur, but Hags met him easily and the two of them began exchanging blows, their movements almost too fast to follow. They looked like they were dancing, both seeming to know exactly what the other was going to do and how to counter it.

“Wow,” Brendan breathed, and Alex looked over to see that he was also watching Phil and Hags, entranced. Alex felt himself staring at Brendan until a ringing crash jerked his attention back to the fight. Phil and Hags had their swords crossed and were straining against each other - then they backed up at exactly the same moment and whirled into action again, still with that same eerie grace.

The duel continued for almost another minute, then there was a final flurry of movement that ended when they froze in unison. Phil had his sword up against Hags’ throat, and Hags’ sword was trapped at his side. They stood there, frozen for a moment - then Hags tipped his head back, baring his throat. Phil let his sword drop and stepped back, and they grinned at each other for a moment that was broken by shouts of congratulation and mockery from the crew. Alex saw coins and slips of paper change hands as Phil and Hags traded places with Geno and Kuni.

Geno grinned mockingly at Kuni and rolled his shoulders, saying something in a jeering tone of voice. Kuni seemed to ignore him, and the two of them circled each other. Geno’s gait was predatory, and Alex watched with envy as he and Kuni began dueling in earnest.

“Not much work getting done, I see,” came a voice from over his shoulder, and Alex jumped and twisted around to look at Tanya, who was standing behind him with her hands on her hips.

“Uh,” Alex said. His voice cracked, and behind him he heard Brendan snort. “We were just - “

“Watching G show off,” Tanya said, her voice dry as she moved over to lean against the railing and look down at the lower deck, where Geno was clearly toying with Kuni. “You’re weak on your right side, Kunitz,” she called down at the two of them. “And Malkin, stop messing around. You could have ended that fight three minutes ago.”

Good natured jeering erupted from the crew as Geno knocked away Kuni’s lunge and tapped his sword against Kuni’s chest, ending the match. Geno shaded his eyes and looked up at Tanya, a wolfish grin on his face. “Tanya! You come to spar with me?”

She shook her head, her braids whipping around in the wind. “I’ll let you keep your dignity,” she called, and the crew erupted into a chorus of “oooohhs.”

Geno shook his head, tutting in disappointment. His gaze landed on Alex and Brendan, and he smirked at them. “What about you?”

Alex hesitated, looking over at Brendan, who was looking at him expectantly. “You scared?” Geno called from the lower deck, his voice taunting.

“Fuck you, I’m not _scared_ ,” Alex snapped, getting to his feet and marching over to the ladder that led down to the lower deck. A small part of his mind pointed out that this was probably a bad idea, but he ignored it. When he got to the bottom of the ladder, Phil handed him a sword with an encouraging grin and pushed him towards the center of the circle.

Alex looked across the open space at Geno, who was holding his sword in one hand and smirking, an evil gleam in his eyes. Alex was tall, and muscular from working in the forge, but Geno was taller still, almost as muscular from working on the ship, and had the additional advantage of actually knowing how to use his sword. Alex set his jaw and brought the sword up in his best approximation of the ready position. It was heavier than the practice swords that had been the only ones he’d used at school, and his wrists immediately began to complain.

Geno brought his own sword up, but just stood there. He narrowed his eyes and looked Alex up and down in assessment. Alex glared at him. “What’s the matter,” he asked. “Scared?”

Geno spent another long moment looking at him, and then moved almost too quickly for Alex to see, lunging forward and knocking Alex’s sword aside with contemptuous ease. He laid the edge of his sword at Alex’s throat, and raised his eyebrows. “Who taught you to fight?”

Alex’s ears burned with humiliation, and he dropped the sword, letting it clatter to the deck. He didn’t answer, and Geno stepped back, taking his sword away.

“Whoever taught you to fight, they shit,” he said. “That’s okay, I’m best teacher. Pick up sword.”

Alex stooped slowly to the deck and picked up the sword, eyeing Geno warily. He was looking up at the upper deck, and Alex turned to see that Brendan had abandoned even the pretense of working on the sails and was standing with Tanya up against the railing. “You too,” Geno called, gesturing for him to come down.

Brendan looked confused, but obedient to the gestures, he began climbing down the ladder. Geno looked around at the crew and beckoned to the shortest one. “Shearsy, come here, give Brendan your sword.”

Shearsy grumbled a little, but he came over and handed Brendan his sword. Geno waved him off imperiously. “Go swab decks,” he said. “Take Sunshine, he is too lazy. Learned bad habits - “ he cut himself off abruptly. Shearsy made a face, but threw Geno a sloppy salute and headed away from the sparring deck. Geno looked around at the rest of the crew.

“Practice,” he commanded, and they split up into pairs and began sparring. He turned back to Alex and Brendan and frowned at Brendan, who was holding the sword out away from his body in what even Alex could tell was an awkward manner. “All right. First, we start with how to hold sword. Like this.” He held his sword out for them to look at.

Alex eyed it dubiously, but attempted to arrange his hand in the same fashion. Brendan wrinkled his nose as he did the same, then held it out for Geno’s inspection. “No,” Geno said, looking at both of them. “Try again.”

After four or five attempts had been met with the same response, Brendan started getting impatient. “Why do I have to learn how to use a sword?” he asked, dropping it to the deck and massaging his wrist. Alex wanted to drop his own sword, but he didn’t want to let Geno know how much his wrists hurt, so he didn’t.

“Everyone on this ship learns how to use sword,” Geno said, deadly serious. “Everyone. Even whiny passengers. Try again.”

“No,” Brendan said, crossing his arms and scowling. “This is pointless.”

“I’ll take them, G,” came Tanya’s voice from above, and Alex started. He hadn’t realized she’d been standing there watching the whole time. “God knows I’ve had practice teaching raw beginners, and you haven’t. Go on,” she said, when Geno visibly hesitated, pushing away from the railing to climb down the ladder. “Go bug Sid, I haven’t seen him yet this morning. And if you see Taylor, ask her to come?”

“Sid very busy. Taylor too,” Geno muttered, but he nodded at Tanya as she reached the lower deck. “Do your best,” he said. “Right now seem utterly hopeless.”

“I specialize in hopeless cases,” she said, smiling, before turning to Alex and Brendan. The smile dropped off her face. “All right, you two. Pick up your sword, Brendan, and Alex, show me your grip again.” She looked it over, then grabbed his hand and moved it where she wanted it. “There. Hold it like that.” She did the same thing for Brendan, then drew her own sword and held it up. “We’re going to start with some basic drills until Taylor gets here,” she said. “Follow me.”

0o0o0o0o0

“All right listen up,” Sid called, and the conversations on deck died to silence as the crew turned to face him. Alex and Brendan both looked up from the bits of rope they were struggling with, and Alex frowned at the look on Sid’s face.

“You all know the drill,” Sid said, looking around. “We’ve made good time. We’re about half a day out, so we’ll tie up at Mount Griffin and spend the night there.”

There was a scattering of boos from the crew until Geno wandered up to stand behind Sid and folded his arms across his chest, just looming. The boos cut off, but there was still some discontented muttering. Sid rolled his eyes.

“You _know_ the drill,” he said. “I know it’s been too long since we had a stay in port, but you’re all just going to have to tough it out until we can get back to Silver Lake.”

“Or the capital,” someone - Alex thought it was probably Tanger - muttered. “With our luck, it’ll be a _year_ before we get a few days in port.”

Sid’s glare intensified, but he let it pass. “After we tie up, everyone is off-duty for the night,” he said briskly. This announcement was greeted with more approval by the crew. Sid glanced around, looking from face to face, then nodded. “All right - get back to work. First shift to report back at six tomorrow - I want to get in early.”

The crew scattered back to their duties, talking quietly among themselves. Alex looked back down at the rope in his hand and sighed. After two weeks on board the _Penguin_ , his days had fallen into a routine - he and Brendan had training with Tanya and Taylor in the morning after breakfast, and then lunch, and then ship chores as assigned by whatever crew member came up to them at lunch. Today it had been Duper, who had handed them both a small length of rope and proceeded to demonstrate the various knots used around the ship. Mostly what Alex was doing at the moment was turning his bit of rope into a hopelessly snarled mess, but at least Brendan wasn’t any better.

The afternoon storm had already begun when they tied up at Mount Griffin. One entire side of the mountain looked as though it had simply fallen away, leaving a flat blank wall in its place. Alex resolutely didn’t look at it - it made up feel uncomfortable, like the rest of the mountain might decide to fall down on top of them.

“Alex and Brendan!” Sunshine was suddenly right there between them, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. “You’re coming with me,” he informed them both. “We’re not on first shift tomorrow, so - tonight, we drink!”

“Oh great,” Alex said, sarcastic, as Brendan laughed. Sunshine turned his blinding smile on Alex.

“What, you don’t want to drink? I thought Russians were good at holding their liquor.”

Alex felt his jaw clench. “For the last time, I am _not_ Russian,” he said. Sunshine smirked at him, and he could hear Brendan laughing.

“So you can’t hold your liquor? Good to know - maybe you shouldn’t come after all,” he said, and Alex saw red.

“I’ll show you,” he said, and Sunshine’s grin was practically evil.

“Good,” he said, and he hauled both of them off towards the galley.

0o0o0o0o0

The deck lurched beneath his feet and Alex stumbled and would have fallen flat on his face if he hadn’t had an arm around Brendan, who caught him with a hand on his chest.

“Whoa there,” Brendan said, laughing up at him. Alex looked down and started to scowl, but he caught sight of Brendan’s face and forgot that he was annoyed. Brendan’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright with laughter. His hair was messy and starting to fall down into his face, and Alex wanted to kiss him. He started to lean forward to kiss him, but the deck lurched under his feet again and he lost his balance, stumbling off to the side. Brendan caught him before he fell, again, and smiled that crooked smile at him.

“Let’s get you back to the cabin, drunky,” he said, slipping an arm around Alex’s waist. Alex leaned into him until the words sank in, then pulled away to glare down at him.

“I am not,” he insisted, starting to move forward again when Brendan tugged at him to start walking.

“Not what?” Brendan asked, squinting up at him.

“Not drunk,” Alex said with dignity as the ship lurched under him again. “The ship is moving.”

“Yeah, no - it’s not moving, buddy. We’re docked, remember? Tied up to the mountain?” Alex frowned, remembering that this was true. “You have got to stop letting Sunshine wind you up about the Russian thing.” Brendan wasn’t looking at him, and Alex didn’t like that. He stopped walking and stood there, looking down at Brendan, who’d looked up at him as soon as Alex stopped moving.

“Still moving,” Alex insisted. He’d gotten his “wind legs,” as the crew called them, under him after only a day or so aloft, and it had been a couple of weeks now. He glared down at his feet, which were apparently betraying him, but got distracted looking at Brendan’s face. It was a good face, he thought, and he should tell Brendan so.

“You have a good face,” he told Brendan. Brendan’s face twisted up into an expression Alex didn’t understand, so he reached up and poked Brendan in the cheek.

“Don’t do that,” Brendan said, but he didn’t sound actually annoyed, so Alex poked him again. Brendan’s face creased up, but this time Alex did recognize the expression. Brendan was trying not to smile. He liked Brendan’s smile, so he smiled at Brendan, hoping to encourage it.

“Oh my god, you are so drunk,” Brendan muttered, but he smiled back at Alex. Alex could see the smile clearly, even though it was darker out now that they’d moved away from the lantern light spilling from the mess hall. He blinked for a moment, trying to work out why.

“Brendan, you’re glowing,” Alex said, fascinated. “Did you know you were glowing? Why are you glowing?”

Brendan seemed to freeze for a second, then he shook his head. “I’m a _star_ , Alex,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s what we _do_.”

“Shhhh,” Alex hissed, looking around. “Isn’t that a secret?”

Brendan laughed a little and started walking again, pulling Alex with him. “Yeah, buddy, but there’s no one around, so I’m not that - “ he broke off suddenly as they rounded the last corner before their cabin and heard Tanya saying, angrily, “I thought you knew where you were going!”

Alex didn’t see her, and looked around, confused, until Brendan grabbed him by the arm. He put a finger to his lips and pointed at the door of a nearby cabin, which was cracked open just enough to spill lantern light out the door and illuminate Tanya inside, standing with her back to them, facing Sid, Geno and Taylor.

“I told you,” Sid said. “I _don’t_ actually know where the Witch Queen keeps her stronghold.”

“Then why-” Tanya’s voice was hard with frustration and anger, and Alex looked over at Brendan, confused.

“Because the Royal Sky Navy has had it in for me ever since we left,” Sidney said flatly. From where he and Brendan were standing by the wall, Alex could see Geno cross his arms and scowl where he was standing behind Sid. “I don’t know how that rumor got started.”

“Then what the hell are we doing, Sidney?” Tanya growled, and Taylor reached out a hand to her.

“Tanya,” she said, her voice soft and even. “Tan, I _promise_ , it’s going to be okay.”

“Like I said, I don’t know where the Witch Queen keeps her stronghold,” Sidney said, as though they hadn’t been interrupted. His face twisted into a grimace. “But I know a guy.”

The ship lurched again and Alex felt himself unbalance and list into Brendan, who grabbed him before he could move any further. “All right,” Brendan said quietly. “Let’s get you back to the cabin.”

Alex thought about protesting, but he _was_ tired. “Okay,” he agreed, and they headed off again.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex’s head was pounding in an uneven rhythm as the _Penguin_ nudged sideways and bumped against the dock. Duper and Geno were barking orders, and the rest of the crew swarmed around, putting up the sails and tossing ropes around the wooden pillars sticking up from the dock. Alex and Brendan stood with Tanya, Taylor and Sid up by the ship’s wheel, watching the coordinated movements of the crew as they prepped the ship and readied the gangway.

“So what are we doing here, exactly?” Brendan asked, looking around with interest. The dock was a single long, skinny wooden structure that jutted incongruously from the side of the mountain. The early morning mist that had gathered around the mountains was just starting to break up and dissipate, and Alex could just make out the shape of a long, low building in the distance, almost hidden among the trees. There didn’t seem to be anything else here, and Alex frowned. He didn’t know anything about witches - the crew of the _Penguin_ had been aggravatingly close-mouthed about them - but if he were looking for the Witch Queen of Stormhold, he wouldn’t have started looking here.

“We’re here to see an old friend of Sid’s,” Tanya said after a couple long moments of silence indicated that Sid wasn’t going to say anything. “Apparently Sid thinks he knows where the Witch Queen lives.”

“He’s _not_ a friend,” Sid said, his mild voice belied by his steely expression. “He’s an - acquaintance.”

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Taylor muttered. “ _Why_ are we here again?” She sighed when Sid and Tanya both looked at her. Alex was amused to note that their expressions were almost exactly the same. “I know, I know, it’s just - every time you talk about him, Sid, or you do, Tan - he’s never helpful. Are you _sure_ \- “

“He’s our best bet,” Sid said. He wasn’t looking at Tanya or Taylor anymore, and Alex noticed that his knuckles had gone white where his hands were wrapped around the ship’s railing. “If he doesn’t know where the Witch Queen lives, no one does.”

“Okay,” Brendan said. “That makes sense, I guess?” He made a face. “Why is the Witch Queen so hard to find, anyway?” Alex made a sound of agreement at this, and Brendan turned to smile at him.

“You really _aren’t_ from around here, are you,” Taylor said, sounding amused.

“Nope,” Brendan said cheerfully. “What’s up with that?”

“The old king, may he rot in hell, outlawed most kinds of magic about 15 years ago,” Tanya said. “All the big stuff, anyway - the kind of magic that witches do. So they packed up and left.”

“And, given that they’re, y’know, _witches_ , they’re hard to find if they don’t want you to find them,” Taylor interjected. Her eyes were bright with excitement. “I’ve been trying to get Sid to take me to see the Witch Queen for years. They’re the only ones who know the secrets to forging lightning into steel.”

Sid scowled and turned away to stare balefully at the building in the trees. “ _Illegal_ , Tay,” he said.

“ _Pirate_ , Sidney,” she said, unabashed. “Don’t start with me.”

Tanya stuck her fingers in her ears. “I can’t be hearing this,” she warned. Taylor laughed and shook her head, reaching up to knock Tanya’s hands away.

“Relax, I’ll behave,” she said. “But c’mon, Sid - do we really _have_ to see him?”

“You’ve never even met him,” Sid said, sounding amused in spite of himself as he looked over his shoulder at Taylor. “This is the sort of question I expect from Geno, not you.”

“You bitch about him all the time, I feel like I know him,” Taylor muttered as Geno came over to their group. Alex looked at Brendan to see whether or not he understood what was going on, but Brendan looked just as confused by everything as he felt, which made Alex feel marginally better.

“Sid,” Geno said, coming to a stop and leaning against the railing next to Sid. “You sure we have to be here?”

Taylor and Tanya both snorted, and Sid actually cracked a grin at that. Geno looked a little confused, but he seemed pleased that Sid was smiling. “You know we do, G,” Sid said, and sighed. “Everything done? We ready to go?” Geno nodded, and Sid took a deep breath. “All right, then. Let’s get this over with.”

0o0o0o0o0

Alex raised his eyebrows as he stepped into the building, impressed. From the outside, it was nothing special - a long, single-story building made of rough, weathered wood with windows spaced irregularly along the walls, set bac at the far edge of the clearing against the trees. The interior, however -

The insides of the walls were lined with shelves, carefully arranged and stocked so that nothing interfered with the view from the windows, which was spectacular. Alex tore his eyes away from the sight of the clearing stretching away and up until it turned into the sky and looked to take in the rest of the room. It seemed like the building was some sort of shop - the shelves on the walls were full of all sorts of shiny, colorful things that Alex itched to examine, but he remembered Sid’s warning.

“Don’t touch _anything_ ,” Sid had sternly told Alex, Brendan, Tanya and Taylor. He’d given Taylor an especially dark look, and she’d sniffed. “Assume everything in there is cursed, so fragile you would break it if you _breathed_ on it, or both.”

Brendan had blinked at him. “Why?” he’d wanted to know, and Sid had shaken his head and turned away, wincing. Geno had leaned over and patted him on the shoulder.

“As far as we tell, everything is,” he’d said, and Tanya and Taylor had exchanged a speaking look that Alex hadn’t been able to understand.

So with Sid’s words and Geno’s corroboration ringing in his ears, Alex followed them through the maze of crates and other boxes stacked waist-high on the floor instead of wandering off to inspect the shelves. The crates and boxes were interesting too - here and there, as they wound their way over to a long, empty counter, Alex saw flashes of gold, or gemstones, or what looked like bones. There didn’t seem to be any particular rhyme or reason to where things were stored, and he saw Brendan and Taylor looking around with interest. Tanya, he noticed, was keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead, on the back of Sid’s neck. Her lips were pressed firmly together,. When they reached the counter, she stopped directly behind Sid’s left shoulder and drew her hands behind her back, standing to attention.

Sid reached forward and rang a small bell that was the only thing sitting on the counter. Geno came up from where he’d been bringing up the back of the line to mirror Tanya’s posture on Sid’s other side. Unnerved, but not knowing why, Alex took several steps closer to Brendan, who was standing next to Taylor.

A long moment passed, and then a man came out of the back room, wiping his hands on a towel. He was big - about as tall as Geno but much broader, bulky where Geno was lean. Sharp blue eyes, set under a pair of thick brown eyebrows and above a nose that had been broken at least twice, took them in - six people standing loosely in two groups - and lingered on Sid’s steely expression. He slung the towel over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at them.

“Sidney Crosby,” the man said, as though tasting the name. His accent was different from Geno’s, and Alex’s own, but undeniably Russian. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“Ovechkin,” Sid said, his voice bland. “I wasn’t expecting to be back so soon myself, but there were - extenuating circumstances.”

Ovechkin’s other eyebrow went up, and he folded his - extremely heavily muscled, Alex couldn’t help noticing - arms across his chest. “I’m not sure I like sound of that,” he said, even. “Especially when you bring Captain of Royal Guard with you.”

From where he was standing behind her, Alex saw Tanya’s hands clench into fists, and then relax. Sid didn’t twitch. “She asked me to bring her here,” he said, in the same cool, bland voice. “She has a favor to ask you.”

Ovechkin turned to look at Tanya. “Captain Tanya of the Royal Guard needs a favor from me?” he asked, and his voice had an edge to it that Alex didn’t like. “What favor might that be?”

Tanya took a deep breath, and stepped around Sid and forward. “I need an audience with the Witch Queen of Stormhold,” she said. “Sid seemed to think that you knew how to contact her.”

Ovechkin didn’t so much as twitch. “And if I don’t?” he inquired. “What you do then?”

“Do you not know how to contact her?” Tanya asked, keeping her back straight. Ovechkin quirked his mouth at her in an utterly humorless smile.

“I ask first,” he said. Tanya’s hands flexed behind her back.

“I’ll go somewhere else,” she said, and her voice was steady. “I’ll ask around, use every underground contact that I have. Because I need an audience with the Witch Queen of Stormhold.”

“Why?” The voice came from behind them, and Alex spun around to find a tall, pale man with intense blue eyes and long brown hair standing there. He was built more slightly that Ovechkin, but was still very well muscled. He seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere, and everything about him seemed sleek and dangerous. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Sid, Tanya and Geno all slowly take their hands away from the hilts of their swords.

“Why?” the new man repeated. His voice was lightly accented, but his accent was completely different from Ovechkin’s. “What can you need to speak to the Witch Queen of Stormhold about badly enough to risk her wrath?” He looked over to Ovechkin. “They’re alone, Sasha. She brought no men with her.” His eyes flicked over to Alex, who hadn’t been able to stop himself from twitching when he heard “Sasha,” his gaze coolly interested.

“There’s a threat to the kingdom,” Tanya said, turning so that she could look between Ovechkin and the new man. “A threat to the kingdom, and to the Witch Queen and her people. I felt that she should be made aware.”

Ovechkin let out a sound that seemed to be a cross between a snort and a grunt. “I still don’t like it, Nicky,” he said. “Just because she brought no one this time doesn’t mean she can’t come back.” He bared his teeth in a mockery of a grin, showing that one of his front teeth was missing. “I like this place. I don’t feel like leaving.”

“I give you my word,” Tanya said, looking between the two men again. “If you tell me how I can get an audience with the Witch Queen of Stormhold, I will leave this place and never come back.”

“Your word,” said the pale man, who must be Nicky, “is very good, Captain.” There was a brief pause, and Alex felt Taylor, standing next to him, start to relax. “But not, I think, good enough.”

There was a brief flash of light and shocked yells from Sid, Tanya and Geno. Alex felt briefly unbalanced, staggered, and reached out for Brendan to steady himself. He blinked, and blinked again, and when his vision came back, Taylor had vanished, and Ovechkin was holding something that looked like a small black box with no visible lid or seams.

Sid took a look around and his face went deathly white when he saw that Taylor was missing. He took a menacing step towards Ovechkin, drawing his sword. “What. Have. You. Done.”

“I should ask you same question,” Ovechkin said evenly, ignoring Sid’s sword entirely. “What she offer you, Sidney? I hope it was worth it.” His eyes were like chips of ice. “My trust is expensive, and you just lost it.” He tosses the box into the air and catches it, one-handed, shaking his head. “You need to visit Witch Queen? Fine. I can take you there - for price. But witches hate the Crown, you know this. And you ask me to bring the Captain of the Royal Guard to them.”

Nicky shook his head too. “We would lose all credibility with them,” he said. “And then, we would die. You can see how we don’t want that.”

Sid’s voice could have cracked steel. “Where is my sister.” It was not a question.

 “She is a hostage to your good behavior,” Nicky said, and gestured at the box in Ovechkin’s hand. “The Witch Queen can let her out.”

“ _If_ you can convince her that you deserve it,” Ovechkin added. Tanya was frozen, a look of horror on her face as she stared at the box that apparently contained Taylor. Alex felt faintly sick, thinking of it - nobody deserved to have this happen to them, least of all Taylor.

“You bastards,” Sid breathed, and when he turned around Alex could see that he was completely overcome with fury and barely reining it in. “You utter, utter bastards.” He turned to Geno, who had a look of thunderous rage on his own face, and the two of them had a silent conversation.

“You said there was price,” Geno said, turning to Ovechkin. “What price?”

Ovechkin looked him over. Alex thought he saw something like regret flash in his eyes, but when he spoke, there was no sign of it.

“500 lightning bolts, fresh.”

“Done,” Sid spat. “Geno, take Alex and Brendan and go get it.” Geno jerked his head at them as he passed, and Alex and Brendan followed him, exchanging wide-eyed looks. As they left, Alex heard Sid ask, his voice cutting, “So. We have met your price - where can we find the Witch Queen?”

0o0o0o0o0

The 500 lightning bolts bought them a compass, apparently. Alex flinched away from Sid’s expression when Ovechkin brought it out.

“A compass?” he asked, danger in every line of his body. Tanya was standing a little way apart from him with her arms folded across her chest, each hand gripping at the opposite arm as though she was having to hold herself back from doing something stupid.

Ovechkin and Nicky didn’t seem to care that Sid was half a breath from killing them both, or that Geno and Tanya would gladly help him. Geno’s jaw was clenched, and he had an ugly expression on his face. He’d spent the entire time they’d taken to collect the lightning bolts muttering threats and curses under his breath in Russian, and now looked like they wanted nothing more than to carry them all out.

“Point you to where the witches are,” Ovechkin said, shrugging. He was still holding the box that apparently contained Taylor. Alex caught himself staring at it and hurriedly looked away.

Sid snapped open the compass and made a noise of disgust. “It’s broken.” His hand was hovering over the hilt of his sword again, and Alex knew from watching him and Geno spar on the _Penguin_ that he was wickedly fast when he wanted to be. “Is this another of your games? I won’t play - not again.”

“Not a game, Sidney,” Ovechkin said, sounding bored. Nicky didn’t even look up from where he was inspecting the lightning. He’d let some free and caught it in something that looked like a deformed horseshoe, and was turning it over in his hands, eyeing in critically and listening to it hiss and chatter. Brendan was watching him with a sort of sick fascination, and Alex nudged him with an elbow. Brendan jumped, flashed a queasy grin at Alex, and looked away, inspecting the nearest boxes - but his eyes kept flicking back to Nicky and the lightning, like he couldn’t quite help it.

“Then give me something that works,” Sid said, putting a weird emphasis on “something.” Nicky tensed, looking up from the lightning. “A map, or a Babylon candle, or something.”

Brendan’s head jerked up at the mention of Babylon candles, and Alex frowned, trying to remember why that sounded so familiar. When it clicked, he looked over at Ovechkin, feeling something like hope flicker through him. Maybe Brendan could get home, and he could be safe - his chest felt strangely hollow at the thought, but he ignored it. If Brendan was safe, that was the most important thing.

“No maps,” Ovechkin said with a shrug. “They don’t want it written down. Too easy to find if written down.”

“And we don’t keep Babylon candles in stock,” Nicky said, flicking a glance at Tanya, who said nothing but shifted, her posture somehow indicating that she was listening but wasn’t going to say or do anything about it. Alex looked over at Brendan, who was frowning.

“Are Babylon candles illegal?” he asked. All the eyes in the shop turned to look at him. “What?”

“I keep forgetting you two aren’t from around her,” Tanya muttered. “They aren’t _illegal,_ but - “

“But very magical, very _dangerous_ ,” Ovechkin said, his face dropping into an expression of scorn. “Why you have that? Can you do magic? Where is your permit?” His voice changed, clearly imitating someone, and he looked bitter.

Nicky let out a soft sound and nudged Ovechkin gently with his elbow. Ovechkin blew out a noisy sigh before turning those too-sharp eyes back on Brendan. “Why you ask? You looking for Babylon candle?”

Brendan opened his mouth to reply, but Sid cut him off. “If you _do_ have any in stock,” he said, his voice angry again, “you’d better hand them over.”

Ovechkin clicked his tongue. “Sid, Sid,” he said, sorrow dripping from every line of his body. “So untrusting, you hurt my feelings.”

“It’s your own fault,” Sid said, flatly. “Do you have any or don’t you?” His lips pulled back in a sneer. “Or, actually - G, we should look for ourselves. I know he usually keeps the good stuff in the back, but he _might_ have made an exception . . . “ He let his voice trail of meaningfully, and Geno’s face adopted an expression of vicious glee.

“I go look,” he said, and started making his way over towards the shelves. He’d only taken three steps before Nicky appeared in front of him, still holding the bolt of lightning in his hand.

“Sasha,” Nicky said reprovingly, and this time it was Ovechkin who raised an eyebrow when Alex couldn’t stop himself from twitching. Ovechkin let out another deep sigh and folded his arms across his chest.

“You break anything, it goes on your tab,” he said. “No candles, Crosby. Had two, the other day - but they move quick. Wouldn’t work for you, anyway - you have to know where you going.”

“And _this_ helps me with that how,” Sid asked, holding up the compass. Nicky quirked one side of his mouth up.

“You’ll find that it works just fine once you’ve _left_ ,” he said. “For a limited time. It should be enough to get you there.”

“For what you’ve taken from me, I want something better than _should_ ,” Sid said flatly.

“I not enchant it, Sid,” Ovechkin said. “‘Should’ is all I _can_ give you.”

“Like hell,” Sid said, and Geno growled agreement. Tanya didn’t say a word, but she’d gone tense again. Alex shifted uneasily on his feet, wondering if they were going to start fighting.

“Best offer,” Ovechkin said. “Take or leave.” The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch, and Alex was _sure_ they were going to come to blows, when Brendan spoke up.

“You’ve got knots of wind, there,” he said, pointing to a display of shimmering cords hanging on the wall behind the counter. “I don’t know if. . . Could we maybe - “ he broke off, flushing, as everyone turned to look at him again. Alex edged in front of him, glaring at them - Nicky’s expression was too calculating for his peace of mind.

Tanya was standing the closest to the display - she took one of each color of cord and slipped them into her pockets. When Ovechkin opened his mouth, she said, “Not a word about what is _owed_ , Ovechkin. Consider this part of the reparations you owe for what you did to Taylor.” She glared at him.

Sid stalked over to Ovechkin and grabbed the black box from him before turning and making his way back towards the door. Tanya followed directly on his heels, and Alex and Brendan hurried after her. Alex looked over his shoulder to see whether or not Geno was following them and saw him start to come, hesitate, and then walk quickly over to one of the shelves. He picked up something that looked like a stack of glass orbs and drop them onto the floor, letting them shatter.

“Oops,” he said, then turned to follow the rest of them out. Alex caught a glimpse of Ovechkin’s face - he was rolling his eyes, and had a slight smile playing around his mouth as Nicky, now standing beside him, shook his head. Alex, now thoroughly confused, whacked his shin on the sharp edge of one of the crates littering the floor and pulled his attention back to where he was going.

0o0o0o0o0

Jared took a deep breath and tossed the runes into the air, catching them in a closed fist. He didn’t open it right away, choosing instead to look around at his companions and gauge their moods.

P.K. and Carey were waiting by the railing of the skyship, standing easy as they waited to hear the news. In the week since he’d met them, Jared had decided that he liked the two ex-army men. They were competent and professional, taking complications in stride and working around them. In addition, P.K. was cheerful and outgoing, while Carey was quieter with a wicked sense of humor. Neither of them were overawed by Jared, either, which he liked.

Jeff was hovering halfway between Jared’s position by the foremast and the stairs up to the wheel. He looked tired, with dark shadows lingering under his red-rimmed eyes. The ship they’d commandeered was small, with only a few passenger cabins, and they’d had to double up, so Jared knew that Jeff hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since they’d left Silver Lake. He’d heard Jeff crying, mourning Eric, and had ached to comfort him - but his feelings about his brothers were complex, and the words had frozen in his throat. He’d also overheard several nights of nightmares, woken to hear Jeff thrashing and whimpering in his cot, and Jared shamefully preferred those, because he could actually _do_ something about them. Admittedly, all he could do was shake Jeff awake, but at least it was _something_.

Ryan had flatly refused to be dismissed with the rest of Marc’s guards. “I will do my duty, your highness,” he’d said, and had immediately begun barking orders to his men, who’d taken Marc’s body and vanished. Ryan himself had remained, and had offered enough helpful suggestions in the discussions that followed that Jared had simply given up on making him leave. He was standing at Jared’s side, and appeared to be paying no attention to Jared, instead scanning the horizon. Jared knew better than to think he was being ignored - if he needed Ryan for anything, Ryan would know before he did.

He shut his eyes and focused on the runes in his hand, thinking what was at this point the ritual question: _Where must I go to see the warlock dead?_

After they had established that none of them actually knew where to find the Witch Queen, there had been a long argument about the best way to proceed. Ryan and P.K. had agreed that the witches would definitely have spells surrounding their court to prevent them being found by straightforward means, and that they’d have to come at the problem from an angle.

“Witches hate warlocks,” Carey had said, finally. “If they find out there’s a warlock, they’ll hunt him down and kill him. So ask where you need to go to kill the warlock, and we’ll either end up where the witches are, or where the warlock is - and if we end up where he is, we can take our best shot.”

Since no one had been able to come up with a better solution, they had found a Royal Sky Navy courier ship and commandeered it and its crew. The captain of the _Checker_ wasn’t pleased about the lack of a firm destination, or even good directions, but he wasn’t willing to argue with a prince of the realm.

Jared squeezed his eyes even further shut before opening them and his hand at the same time. He frowned down at the runes, which had arranged themselves into an arrow pointing northwest. Runes weren’t supposed to do that, but they’d been doing it ever since Silver Lake. He’d asked if anyone knew what might be causing the strange behavior, but no one had any ideas.

He looked up, sighting along the arrow’s line, and saw in the distance the hulking shapes of the Stormfast Mountains.

“Stormfasts,” he said, and his companions all turned to look at him. P.K. whistled.

“Nasty terrain in there,” he said, squinting at the distant mountains. “And we’re what, probably a day or so out?”

“Depends on the winds,” Ryan said, looking out towards the mountains as well. “I’ll go let the captain know. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

Jeff snorted, but didn’t say anything as Ryan turned on his heel and headed towards the crew’s quarters. Jared hesitated for a moment before going over and putting his hand on Jeff’s shoulder.

“We’ll get him,” he promised, and felt Jeff lean into the touch as they flew onward.

0o0o0o0o0

The crew took one look at Sid’s expression when they got back to the _Penguin_ and instantly snapped to attention. No one said a word as the five of them boarded the ship, although it was a very loud silence, as everyone tried not to ask what had happened to Taylor.

Sid stalked up to the wheel with the compass held firmly in one hand, Taylor’s box in the other, and snapped, “Prepare to cast off.” Geno, standing behind him with an expression that promised murder, began barking orders as the crew leapt into action. Alex was looking around for something he could do to help when Brendan caught him by the sleeve and jerked his head towards where Tanya was standing half-hidden by the mainmast, her arms wrapped around her middle like she was trying to stop herself from coming apart. Alex frowned in confusion, and Brendan rolled his eyes and grabbed Alex by the wrist, tugging him over to her.

“Hey,” Brendan said softly when they were close enough. “You okay?”

Tanya let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a sob and a bitter laugh. “ _I’m_ fine,” she said, and tipped her head back, staring at the sky. “The man I swore to defend with my life is dead, and my best friend is trapped in a _box_. But _I’m_ fine.” Alex saw the glisten of tears against her dark skin and she wiped at her cheeks impatiently.

“It’s not your fault,” Brendan said, hesitantly reaching up a hand to rest on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off as the tears continued to course down her cheeks.

“Of course it’s my fault,” she said, her voice sounding a little choked. “If I’d been faster pushing Eric out of the way, we might have been able to take the warlock down together. At least I might have saved _him_ , and not been forsworn.” Her arms tightened around her middle, and she looked down, biting at her lip. Alex felt entirely helpless, and a glance at Brendan showed that he was equally stumped as to what to do.

“But no,” Tanya continued, her voice choked with bitterness. “I was too slow, not quite good enough  - and now he’s _dead_. I should have fallen on my sword, then - but my oaths are also to the kingdom, and if I died and let the warlock go free, I would be doubly forsworn. So to keep what was left of my honor, I dragged my best friend into this mess - and now she’s trapped in a box and may never get out.”

Alex exchanged a confused look with Brendan. “But I thought the Witch Queen . . . “ he started to say, but trailed off as Tanya shook her head.

“With the old king dead and no heir, I _am_ the law of Stormhold,” she said. “The Witch Queen may kill me just on principle, and refuse to release Taylor out of spite.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then squared her shoulders and turned to make her way back to the cabin she’d shared with Taylor. Brendan stared after her, looking perplexed.

“If the Witch Queen’s probably going to kill her just on principle, why is she going to see her?” he asked, plaintive, and Alex shrugged, feeling just as baffled.

The _Penguin_ was moving now - the crew was still swarming over the deck, moving like cogs in a well-oiled machine, but they’d pulled away from the dock and were drifting further into the mountains. Alex could see Sid standing at the wheel with a furious set to his jaw, glaring down at the hand that must hold the compass.

“What did Ovechkin _do?_ ” The hissed whisper made Alex jump, and he turned to glare at Sunshine, who looked utterly unrepentant. “What happened to Taylor?”

“She’s trapped in a box until we get to the Witch Queen,” Brendan said, and Sunshine looked shocked.

“ _What_ ,” he said, sounding scandalized and a little impressed. “And he’s still alive?”

“Nicky said that if we killed them, the compass wouldn’t work,” Alex muttered. Sunshine looked even _more_ shocked.

“You met _Backström?_ ” he said, and Alex and Brendan must both have looked blank, because he elaborated, “Tall man, pale, longish brown hair, seems to appear from out of nowhere?”

“Oh,” Alex said, and exchanged shrugs with Brendan. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Sunshine said, impressed. “You met _Ovechkin and Backström._ They’re like, legendary,” he said, when neither of their expressions changed. “I heard that Ovechkin walked into a room with 15 men who wanted to kill him, and he was the only one who walked out alive.”

“I heard it was 30,” put in Olli, who’d come up behind Sunshine. “And I heard that Backström totally stole the crown jewels _while the king was wearing them_.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I heard that Ovechkin was captured once - they were holding him in the secure cells in the center of the palace, and he _walked through the walls_ to escape.” Sunshine said.

“ _I_ heard that Backström stole the Stormwind Scrolls from the magically locked vault in the college of wizards. Didn’t leave a trace,” Olli said, sounding awed.

“I heard that Ovechkin once challenged the leaders of five of the major crime families to a drinking game - and _won_.”

“I heard that Backström seduced the heir to the Russian throne.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tanger said, and both Sunshine and Olli jumped, having been so caught up in their competition that they hadn’t noticed him coming up. “Those are a bunch of tall tales.” He raised an eyebrow at Sunshine and Olli, who both looked guilty. “Get back to work, you two.” He looked after them as they hurried off, then turned his gaze to Alex and Brendan. “You two, come with me. I’ll find something for you to do.” He headed off, and Alex and Brendan shared a grimace before following him.

0o0o0o0o0

The trip to the Witch Queen’s stronghold was deeply unpleasant. Sid and Geno maintained a stony, furious silence on the subject of Ovechkin, and Tanya had shut herself in her cabin. About an hour after they set sail, Flower, Duper, Tanger and Kuni cornered Alex and Brendan and demanded an account of what had happened. The mood among the crew was ugly after that. A couple of hours after lunch, Brendan actually dragged Alex up to the crow’s nest. “To get away from all the muttering,” he said.

Alex followed Brendan up the mast with only a little reluctance - the muttering was starting to get on his nerves too. He drew the line, though, at following Brendan to the very edge of the platform. Brendan sighed at him.

“You won’t fall,” he said, plopping down at the edge and letting his feet dangle off the side. Alex, who was perfectly happy to sit with his back against the mast and several feet between him and empty air, scowled when Brendan turned around and rolled his eyes.

“Just because _you_ would survive a fall doesn’t mean that _I_ would,” he muttered, rehashing the argument they’d been having since they’d arrived on the _Penguin_. “I don’t know why you like it so much up here anyway.” The crow’s nest had quickly become Brendan’s favorite spot on the ship. Alex had lost count of the number of times he’d been sent to get Brendan and found him sitting here, at the highest point of the ship, looking out over the countryside spread out below them.

Brendan shrugged, turning to look away at the surrounding mountains. “It’s still too close,” he said. “But it’s better than nothing.”

“Oh,” Alex said after a moment, suddenly uncomfortable. “Sorry,” he offered a moment later, feeling sort of inadequate. Of course Brendan liked the highest point on the ship.

Brendan shrugged again. “It’s not your fault,” he said, kicking his legs idly. “And I don’t mind that much, most of the time - it’s interesting down here.” He shot a glance over his shoulder but turned away before Alex could read his expression. “I’m trying to get used to it, just in case.”

Alex fought down the welter of tangled emotions that rose up in his chest at that admission. “Don’t say that,” he said gruffly. “We’ll find you a Babylon candle. You’ll be back in the sky in no time.”

“But what if we don’t?” Brendan asked, twisting around to blink at Alex. “Or can’t? We’ve only got this - “ he tapped the pocket where the necklace was hidden. “I know you said it’s probably worth a lot, but if Babylon candles are so rare, they’re probably expensive - what if we don’t have enough?”

Alex had been deliberately pushing thoughts like that out of his mind ever since that morning. “We work for the rest of it, I guess,” he said, leaning back against the mast and swallowing bile at the options. Having only just enough money for the Babylon candle would mean Alex returning home empty handed, and worse - he hadn’t told Master Jacques he was going to be gone, so he’d likely have lost his apprenticeship, in addition to scaring his family badly. No money from the necklace and no money from his apprenticeship meant that he’d almost certainly have doomed Anna’s chances to get away from Lucic. Not having enough money for the Babylon candle - he might be able to use whatever they got for the necklace to help Anna, but then Brendan would be in danger as long as he was down here instead of up in the sky where he belonged. There were no good options - but Alex found himself hoping treacherously, selfishly, that they wouldn’t have enough. That Brendan would have to stay, at least for a while.

“You could come and stay with me,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately casual. “We’ve got a spare room you could have, and you could get a job in the village, save up until you’ve got enough for a Babylon candle. I’d help,” he said hurriedly as Brendan’s face twisted into an expression he couldn’t read. “You could have all my wages - I bet it wouldn’t take very long, with two of us.”

Now Brendan looked pained. Alex shrugged and looked down at the deck. “Or you could see if Tanya or Sid or someone could help you get a job,” he muttered. “It was just a thought.”

“I can’t,” Brendan said, and then the deck below them erupted into shouting and people running everywhere. They both looked down, and after some squinting, Alex could finally make out what everyone must have seen - another long, narrow skydock extending from what seemed to be a sheer blank face of one of the mountains.

“I think we’re here,” Alex said, and swung himself over the side of the platform. If he climbed down the mast a little quicker than usual, well, he was anxious to see where they’d ended up, that’s all. If Brendan didn’t want to stay with him, that was perfectly fine. He was welcome to do whatever he wanted.

0o0o0o0o0

“I don’t like it,” Geno muttered, staring at the sheer rock face. The compass needle pointed unwaveringly at the mountain, even when Sid shook it. Alex privately agreed with Geno - the stone was granite-grey and forbidding, and sported no visible caves or other entrances. Sid, however, was convinced that something was there.

“The Stormfasts are riddled with caves,” he said, and Tanya, who had emerged from her cabin when they’d stopped, had nodded agreement.

“This is perfect bandit country - full of little boltholes,” she said, looking around them at the gloomy, forbidding mountains. “It’s impossible to find anyone here if they don’t want to be found.”

There was a brief, furious argument amongst the crew over who would come with Sid, Geno and Tanya. Tanger, Kuni and Horny won, and then there was more muttering when Tanya insisted on adding Alex and Brendan, much to Brendan’s visible dismay.

“They can describe the warlock even better than I can,” she said, and while that didn’t stop the muttering, the fact that Sid wasn’t arguing about it did. Their group of eight disembarked the _Penguin_ and made their way cautiously along the skydock, looking around for some clue as to where they were heading next. Sid kept one eye on the compass, which kept pointing straight at the wall. Alex glanced down every few feet, convinced that at any moment the wood would dissolve out from under them and they would fall to their death - but it remained reassuringly solid even as they reached the end. The skydock was anchored somehow to a smooth, vertical surface.

Or at least, that was how it appeared. When they came to the far end of the skydock, Tanger, who was in the lead, pointed down and to the left. From this angle, it was clear that there was a gap in the rock that hid a set of steps carved into the mountainside. From the _Penguin_ , it must have appeared as though they’d stepped off the dock and vanished into the mountainside as they filed down the narrow steps, one after the other.

The steps ended in a dark, narrow tunnel, barely wide enough to fit them one at a time Kuni and Horny pulled out lanterns and lit them, eyeing the tunnel with suspicion. Alex felt a deep sense of foreboding - the roof of the tunnel was only a couple of inches above his head, making him paranoid. He was proved right almost as soon as they started to head deeper into the mountain - he banged his head on a piece of rock protruding from the ceiling that had been hidden in shadow, and heard a muffled Russian curse from just ahead as Geno did the same.

They were a couple hundred meters in when they stopped. Alex rubbed at his head, which was still smarting, and listened to Horny swearing in Swedish from the front of the line. He tapped Tanya on the shoulder.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The tunnel branches,” she said. Alex grimaced and rubbed at his head again.

There was a long moment of confusion, where everyone tried to talk at once, and then a shrill whistle rang out, loud and especially piercing in these close quarters. They all fell silent.

“Left,” Sid said, holding up the compass. Horny opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything as Sid turned to look at him, and Geno shifted his weight threateningly. He lifted his lantern higher and started down the left tunnel.

Alex was soon hopelessly lost. The tunnels under the mountain branched and twisted all different ways, and he couldn’t keep track of all the turns they made following Sid’s compass. The only thing he could be sure of was that they were heading deeper into the mountain, as the air began to get colder. Behind him, he could hear Brendan’s teeth start to chatter.

They walked for what seemed like forever, in silence but for the sounds of their footsteps and Sid calling out directions when they reached a fork. Finally Horny came to a stop. “There’s a light ahead,” he said softly. Sid took a deep breath and Alex saw him settle his shoulders. Tanya brought her hands to her hips like she was reaching for her sword belt, which only drew Alex’s attention to the fact that she’d left it behind on the ship.

“Right, then,” Sid said, and took the lantern from Horny. “Let’s go.”

The light grew brighter as they walked on, and the tunnel broadened. They were able to walk two abreast, now, and Tanya threaded her way up so that she was walking behind Sid and Geno. Alex snuck sideways glances at Brendan as they got closer and closer to whatever was ahead. It was hard to tell in the flickering light from the lanterns, but Brendan looked like he might be sick. Alex, who had never known Brendan to be quiet for this long while he was conscious, was worried.

The tunnel ended abruptly, as they rounded one last bend and found themselves suddenly blinking in sunlight. They must have reached the center of the mountain, Alex thought, staring up and around in bewilderment at the sight of the sky, a shock after so much time underground.

The space they found themselves in was a perfect round bowl, ringed on all sides by the mountain they had been climbing under. The ground by where they’d come out was carpeted in grass and moss, with little white starflowers blooming here and there as though they’d been embroidered on as ornamentation. As Alex looked across to the other sides, he saw that half of the space was filled with what looked and smelled, from this distance, like an evergreen forest. The air was still, and there were some birds calling to each other in the forest, and the low hum of bees.

Only the spot where they were standing had sunlight - the rest of the place was in shadow. Alex shaded his eyes and looked down - a stone path led from where they were and off to the right, towards a lone grove of what looked like maple trees. Alex felt as though he was being watched, although he couldn’t see anyone when he looked around. Brendan seemed to be breathing a little easier now that they were back outside, and Alex bumped him gently with his shoulder. Brendan looked up at him, seemingly startled, but bumped him back and gave him a grin. It was obviously fake, so Alex bumped him again, harder. The grin steadied, became something more real, and Brendan bumped him back.

After taking a moment to get their bearings, Sid led the party off down the path. As they followed him, Alex could see that they path ended at the base of a broad dais made of stone. There was a chair on the dais - no, a throne, Alex corrected himself as they drew nearer and he could see the intricate carvings along the back and the arms. A woman was sitting on the chair, dressed in plain work clothes - dark brown breeches and a red shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her blonde hair was cut short, just below her chin, and her hazel eyes were steady as she surveyed them. She wasn’t wearing a crown, just a simple silver pendant shaped like a maple leaf, but Alex knew instantly who she was.

“Your Majesty,” Sid said, coming to a halt a few steps from the foot of the dais and bowing. The rest of them followed suit, spreading out to form a rough semicircle and bowing. Alex felt stupid and off-balance - he’d never met someone he’d needed to bow to in his life - but he copied what the others were doing as best he could.

“Stand up,” she said, her voice clear and no-nonsense. She was frowning as she looked from face to face before settling on Tanya. “State your business.”

“Your Majesty, I am Captain Tanya Grier of the Royal Guard,” Tanya said, stepping forward. “I have come to negotiate with you.”

“I know that the king is dead, and did not name an heir,” the Witch Queen said, raising an eyebrow at Tanya. “On whose authority do you presume to negotiate?”

“As his majesty did not name an heir before he died, by law and tradition the power to negotiate with foreign heads of state falls to the Captain of the Royal Guard,” Tanya said, her voice steady. “I speak on my own authority.” The Witch Queen laughed.

“And you came to me? You don’t do things by halves, Captain Grier.” She settled back in her throne. “And if I am not open to negotiation?”

“I would ask your majesty to reconsider,” Tanya said, lifting her chin. “I am aware that relations between our people have been strained, and I would not test that without cause.”

Alex found himself holding his breath as the Witch Queen leaned forward, tapping the fingers of one hand on the arm of her throne.

“I had not heard that you were stupid, Captain,” she said at last. “So I am willing to open negotiations - provided, of course, that you have something of value to offer me.”

“I have news of a warlock loose in the kingdom,” Tanya said, and the Witch Queen was suddenly still, with the air of a viper about to strike. Tension crackled through the air like static, and as if answer, a low rumble of thunder growled in the distance. Everyone went still.

“You are certain.” It was not a question.

Tanya nodded. “He has attacked us twice, your majesty,” she said. “With spells that no wizard could cast alone.”

The Witch Queen’s eyes narrowed, and the air around them went cold and clear. The edges of shadows around them seemed sharper than usual, and glittered oddly. After a moment, she sat back, and the air returned to normal.

“I see you are telling the truth,” the Witch Queen said, drumming her fingers on the arms of her throne. “Your news is indeed valuable. And in return, you ask for what?”

Tanya swallowed. “On our way here, Majesty, one of our party was imprisoned in this.” Sid stepped forward, holding out the box that held Taylor. “We were told you would be able to release her.”

The Witch Queen examined the box, her eyes revealing nothing. “I can, yes.” She looked up at them and raised an eyebrow, questioning. “And?”

“If your majesty is open to further negotiations, once the matter of the succession is settled. . . ?” Tanya’s voice trailed off. “Of course I cannot speak for the king-to-be, but I can guarantee the safety of an envoy into and out of the king’s presence.”

“Ah.” The Witch Queen’s face smoothed out into an expressionless mask. “We shall see,” she said. “If I am interested in opening further negotiations, I will send a representative to the palace - after the new king has been crowned, of course.”

“Of course,” Tanya said. Behind her, Sid was almost vibrating with impatience as the Witch Queen just held the box but did nothing to free Taylor. Alex exchanged a look with Brendan but didn’t move - he wasn’t sure which direction would be safest, anyway. “Will your majesty inform me when the. . . . situation has been dealt with?”

The Witch Queen’s eyebrows drew together, and Alex tensed, expecting something bad to happen. But instead she tilted her head and eyed Tanya with what looked like respect. She snapped her fingers, and a rough wooden doll appeared in her hand. She tossed it to Tanya, who caught it and inspected it.

“When our current business is done, the doll will burn,” the Witch Queen said. “Now, as for your friend - “ she glanced at the box, and it writhed and seemed to turn inside out. Alex had to turn away, as looking at it made him queasy. A moment later, he heard a muffled thump and turned to see Sid pulling Taylor into his arms. She looked dazed, briefly, and then annoyed.

“When I see Ovechkin again,” she muttered, pushing Sid off after a moment, “he’s a dead man.”

“Not if I get to him first,” Sid said, dark. The Witch Queen watched with amusement. Tanya bowed to her again.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said. “As a further token of our willingness to negotiate, I and these two,” she waved at Alex and Brendan, “can provide you with a description of the warlock.”

“Yes,” the Witch Queen said, looking at them. Alex felt oddly exposed under her gaze, and fought to keep from looking down. He felt himself flushing with embarrassment and anger. “Caroline and Julie will take your descriptions.”

She waved a hand, and two women stepped out of the aspen grove and approached the dais. One was slightly taller than the other, but they both had black hair and dark eyes. The shorter of the two had darker skin and was wearing a blue short-sleeved vest that showed off her heavily muscled arms. The taller woman had a longer face and was dressed in the a red shirt that looked like the Witch Queen’s. They both looked watchful and dangerous.

“Follow us,” the shorter woman said, and she led Tanya, Alex and Brendan away.

0o0o0o0o0

Caroline and Julie noted down the description of the warlock, then escorted them back to where their party was waiting. Alex couldn’t help but feel a vague sense of anticlimax. The witches seemed supremely unimpressed by them, and were mostly focused on the warlock - but they weren’t talking to Alex or Tanya or Brendan about him. He’d spent the last few weeks doing nothing _but_ worrying about the warlock, and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he didn’t need to anymore.

Kuni, Horny and Tanger were standing in a cluster, talking amongst themselves, while Sid and Taylor were having what looked like an argument in hushed tones while Geno hovered just behind Sid, scowling. They stopped arguing as soon as Alex, Brendan and Tanya got close, but both of them looked very unhappy.

“Are you okay?” Tanya asked as soon as they were close enough, coming up to Taylor and inspecting her carefully. She hadn’t shown it while she was talking to the Witch Queen, but now Alex could see that there were lines of tension on her face that only eased as she saw that Taylor seemed fine.

“I’m fine, Tan,” Taylor said gently, reaching out and pulling Tanya into a hug. “And it wasn’t your fault.” She must have felt something in Tanya’s body language that meant that Tanya disagreed, because she pulled away from the hug slightly to level a glare up at Tanya. “It _wasn’t_ your fault,” she said, and shifted her gaze pointedly between Tanya and Sid. “It was Ovechkin’s fault, and he will most certainly pay for it. But it wasn’t yours.”

“Okay,” Tanya said, and even Alex could tell that she was just humoring Taylor. Taylor scowled, and opened her mouth to say something, but Tanya cut her off by stepping away from her and turning to Sid. “So, when are we leaving?”

Sid pulled out the compass and opened it, tilting it towards Tanya. Alex craned his neck and saw that the little arrow inside was spinning merrily in circles, utterly useless. Beside him, Brendan let out a frustrated breath. Tanya sighed.

“Was anyone keeping track of the passages?” she asked. “I have the first couple of turns, I think - “

“Or you could follow us,” said a voice from just behind them.

Alex jumped and turned. He hadn’t heard either of the two women come up behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tanya’s hand twitch towards where her sword would normally hang at her side, but she didn’t react otherwise. Both the women were wearing sensible brown breeches and a dark blue shirts. The shorter of the two had long blonde hair, worn loose, and bright blue eyes that seemed familiar somehow. The taller had brown hair tied back from her face and lively brown eyes. Neither of them looked like they missed much.

“And you are?” Tanya asked, her voice cool.

“I’m Amanda, and this is Hilary,” said the shorter one, gesturing to her companion. “Her Majesty asked us to guide you back out.”

There was a brief pause where Sid, Tanya and Geno exchanged glances, and then Sid stepped forward.

“That is very kind of Her Majesty,” he said. “We’ll follow you.”

The witches - or at least, Alex was pretty sure they were witches - each grabbed an oil lamp from a stash Alex hadn’t noticed by the entrance to the tunnel and lit them before starting down the tunnel. Hilary went first, followed closely by Horny and Kuni, who both seemed less than thrilled by having to go back through the mountain. Then came Sid, Geno and Taylor, bunched together in a little group, then Amanda, then Tanger and Tanya, then Alex and Brendan.

“So, does Phil still travel with you?” Amanda asked Tanger as they walked. He shot a look at her that Alex couldn’t interpret, but nodded after a moment. Amanda’s smile flashed in the darkness. “Oh, good, I was hoping I’d be able to say hi. He doesn’t stop by nearly often enough.” Tanger looked suspicious, but Amanda just whistled innocently as she kept going.Alex kept glancing over to check on Brendan. He seemed fine for a while, but when the tunnel narrowed back down so that they had to walk single file, he looked like he was struggling.

“Hey - you okay?” Alex asked quietly after some time. Brendan wasn’t looking any better, and had in fact seemed to get worse as they wound their way back through the mountain. Alex glanced up the tunnel and then slowed down significantly, wanting to put some more space between him and Tanya so that their conversation could be private, despite the tunnel’s echo.

“It’s very cramped down here,” Brendan muttered, looking like he might be sick. “I’ll be fine as long as we keep going.”

“All right, if you’re sure,” Alex said doubtfully, and turned back around. He started to speed up to close the gap between him and Tanya, and suddenly found himself unable to move. He felt panic flare at the all-too-familiar sensation and struggled, trying desperately to see what was causing it. It was no use. He was completely frozen, unable to blink or move or even breathe.

“Alex? Alex!” Brendan, at least, seemed to be able to move. He was pushing at Alex from behind, trying to get him to move, but Alex seemed to have been frozen to the ground, too, and couldn’t be budged. “Tanya! Tanger! Someone, help me!”

“They won’t hear you,” said a cold voice from the shadow, and Alex felt his heart lurch as the warlock stepped out of a side tunnel a few feet in front of him, smiling unpleasantly.

“What do you mean?” Brendan asked, and the warlock’s unpleasant smile widened.

“I mean, they won’t hear you. No one will hear you. This has gone on long enough.” He raised his hands and made a complicated gesture towards Brendan, and Alex’s heart leapt into his throat for a moment.

“It won’t work on me.” Brendan’s voice was a little shaky, but he seemed to be fine, and Alex felt a wave of dizzying relief flood him.

“No?” The warlock seemed amused. “Are you thinking about running away, little star?” _Yes,_ Alex screamed internally. _Run away, Brendan, get_ out _of here_ , _he’ll kill you!_ He was starting to feel faint from lack of air, but he could tell that Brendan wasn’t going. Brendan grabbed him by the hand and tugged, but it still didn’t do anything. The hallway was suddenly a lot warmer, and there was a lot more light. It cast flickering, dancing shadows across the warlock’s face, moving like there was a large fire somewhere behind him.

“Let him go,” Brendan said, and he sounded angry, his voice a little less shaky. “It’s me you want, not him. Let him go!” Alex wanted to yell at him to get _away_ , go run back towards the witches and get help. Black spots were starting to crowd his vision.

“I think not,” the warlock said, sounding bored. “He’s been a thorn in my side, he can stay as he is. Now, are you going to come quietly, or will I have to force you?”

“Let him go,” Brendan said again. ‘Let him go and I’ll . . . I’ll come willingly.” He sounded terrified but determined and even as Alex’s vision started to go black, he raged, trying to make himself move, trying to get to the warlock. He wanted to throttle Brendan, what was he thinking, how _dare_ he sacrifice himself, Alex wasn’t worth it. . .

“An intriguing proposition,” the warlock said, and suddenly Alex could breathe again. He strained forward, trying to move, but he was still stuck. His eyes were dry, but he couldn’t blink - just breathe, and watch as Brendan slowly edged his way around so he was also in front of Alex. Alex glared down at him, trying to communicate exactly how terrible he thought this idea was, but Brendan either didn’t understand him or was ignoring him.

“You didn’t let him go,” Brendan said, turning to glare at the warlock. The warlock shrugged.

“The spell will thaw slowly. He won’t die here,” he said. “Now, young star, I believe you made a bargain - unless you want me to freeze him back up,” he said, and his tone was heavily menacing.

“No, no, I’m coming,” Brendan said quickly, turning away from Alex and gesturing placatingly at the warlock. “I’m coming. I just need - “ and he darted forward quickly and leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss Alex briefly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and then turned back and stepped towards the warlock, who hissed something under his breath and fastened one hand around Brendan’s wrist. Something in Brendan’s eyes went terrifyingly blank, and as Alex watched, he followed the warlock docilely down the side passage.

The light vanished from the tunnel when they did, and it was suddenly cold and pitch dark. Alex stood in the tunnel, frozen but for his lungs, which worked steadily, and strained every muscle to be able to move. He had no idea how long he stood there, but slowly he could feel the spell thawing - he was able to twitch his fingers, and then blink - but it was too slow, he was losing his mind. Brendan was gone, he’d gone with the warlock _willingly_ . . .

 _He kissed you_ , his mind whispered as he twitched his fingers again, tried to get his whole hand to move. _He kissed you and then he walked away. He gave himself up to save your life_. He strained and strained - it felt like it must have been hours, he’d been here forever, Brendan was probably dead by now . . .

A spark of light appeared further down the tunnel, growing slowly larger as whoever it was approached. A few moments passed, and the Alex could make out three figures approaching, Tanya and the two witches from earlier. They saw him and hurried towards him.

“Alex!” Tanya called, sounding upset. “What happened? Where’s Brendan?” Alex tried to respond but failed, barely able to make a grunting, moaning sound. Hilary frowned and reached out to touch him. When her fingers brushed his skin, she recoiled, then made a gesture as though brushing something away. Alex, who had been straining forward, collapsed to his knees and drew in several large, gasping breaths, trying to get himself under control.

“Brendan,” he said, and his voice sounded more like a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “The warlock took Brendan.”

0o0o0o0o0

Bettman held up a hand, and the star stopped obediently behind him. He closed his eyes and took inventory of his remaining magic, then scowled. The cloaking spell he was using to remain hidden this deep in the Witch Queen’s territory was eating through his reserves too fast, and if he kept it up, he would be out of magic well before he was able to get out of these mountains. He turned around and aimed his scowl at the star, which blinked at him, docile for now - if the blasted star had gone anywhere but the Stormfast Mountains, he’d have achieved his goals already-but what was done was done, and the star was his now.

He judged the strength of his remaining magic, and blew out an annoyed breath. He was simply going to have to find a place to conduct the ritual here, in the mountains. It was enough of a risk that he intensely disliked the idea, but it was more palatable than having the star only to lose it to a witch that caught him after he’d burned through all his power on that damn cloaking spell. No- better to find a place to fortify, somewhere close, where he could drop the cloaking spell just long enough to perform the ritual. After, of course, he could walk through the Stormfasts without fear. He might even pay a visit to the Witch Queen herself . . .

He pushed aside those thoughts and pulled out his runes, tossing them into the air.  He had passed a cave that would be adequate for his purposes on his way to find the damn star, now all he needed was to be able to find it again. He consulted the runes, snorted, and started walking again, the star trailing obediently behind him.

Now that he had it, now that the fruition of all he’d planned was so close, he stewed in his frustration over all the pain the star had caused him. It would be worth it, of course it would- but until he had completed the ritual, he was bitter about the travel, the magic he’d had to use to speed him on his way, his failure at the inn- and especially the utter waste of power and time that Silver Lake had been. To be so close, and then have the star slip away - he looked back again, to check that it was there, and was reassured to see it following obediently, the eyes wonderfully blank.

And then there had been _more_ travel, as he’d been forced to chase the damn thing on foot as it wandered through the sky, only to find that it was headed directly to the home of his most feared and hated enemies. He had wavered, at the base of the Stormfasts - should he continue? Surely the witches would notice what had wandered, all unknowing, into their midst - but as time had passed, and the runes had kept reporting that they hadn’t noticed, he had ventured forth to claim his prize.

As he came out of the tunnels, he let the light spell lapse. The ground was deeply shadowed as the sun sank behind the mountains, but there was still light enough to see. He made his way across the uneven ground, using the star to help himself climb over fallen trees and boulders as he headed for the spot he’d remembered. There was a large-ish cave at the foot of a towering cliff, and he spent a few moments setting up traps in the clearing outside it that would serve the dual purpose of deterring intruders and warning him if anyone came near. He sent the star inside, then paused, frowning out at the clearing. It was a good size, and it was possible to avoid his traps -

He took an inventory of his magic again, blowing out a disgusted breath at the result. He dropped his shield spell and, using most of his remaining strength, conjured a pair of constructs to serve as his guards. He set them to hide in the clearing and attack anything that got too close, and threw an illusion spell up to hide the entrance to the cave just in case, and a further illusion to confuse anything that got in. Once that was done, he leaned against the wall of the cave until he had caught his breath, then continued into where the cave widened enough that he would have space to conduct the ritual. There was a large rock that was approximately the right size to serve as a table - it would have to do.

He directed the star up onto the table and bound it so that it would be quiet. When he was satisfied with the bindings, he began gathering up the supplies he’d need to summon a fire spirit. He didn’t know how long it would take the witches to come after him, now that he’d dropped the shield spell. He was just going to have to make sure that he was done before they got here, and a fire spirit would only speed the process along.

The spirit flickered into being after a few moments, a tall, bright shape that flickered and sparked in the darkness. It turned its head back and forth, considering him, then bowed and gestured for him to command it.

“I have called you here to assist with a ritual,” Bettman said, feeling a slow grin pull at his face. “Let us begin.”

0o0o0o0o0

Alex shifted back and forth on his feet, scowling, as Amanda delivered her report to the Witch Queen. The Witch Queen’s face was blank, and she was sitting very still, but Alex shivered. There was a feeling in the air that he recognized from his time on the _Penguin_ – lightning was about to strike.

“I see,” the Witch Queen said, when Amanda had finished her report. She waved a hand, dismissing Amanda and summoning Julie and Caroline in the same motion. “Call in the coven,” she commanded them. “Prepare for a Hunt.”

Alex shivered again as Julie and Caroline bowed. They were both wearing expressions of eager expectation. Hilary, standing off to the side with Amanda, looked torn between eagerness and frustration. Alex turned to Tanya.

“How long do you think it’ll take? For them to find him?” he asked. He kept clenching his fists and relaxing them, torn between the need to do _something_ and the knowledge that he _couldn’t_.

“Some hours,” Tanya said, her voice soft. “I don’t know how long it’ll take them to summon the coven and prepare for the hunt, but once they’re organized they should take him down quickly.”

Alex nodded, and turned to look back at the witches. Julie and Caroline were now each holding a large white chunk of stone and speaking in a language Alex had never heard before. Their eyes were glowing silver as they spoke, and a wind was moving around them, stirring their hair and clothes but not touching anything else. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t think what it was. Brendan was in _danger_. . .

“Tanya,’ he said abruptly, as a thought hit him. “Tanya, we need to go _now_. We’ve got to find him now.”

Tanya turned and frowned at him. “What? Alex, what are you talking about?”

“We have to go, we have to go now, we have to find him, the warlock’s going to _kill_ him,” Alex insisted, turning and striding off towards the tunnel they’d come from. Tanya reached out and snagged him by the shoulder, looking at him quizzically.

“We’ll never find him, not without a guide,” she said. “And why do we have to go now? You said the warlock took him, he didn’t kill him, so why would he kill him?”

Alex bit his lip. Brendan had asked him not to tell, but – it was important. He looked around, eyeing the witches, and backed up, pulling Tanya with him so that the witches were out of earshot. Even so, he lowered his voice so that he had to lean in to make out what he was saying. “He’s a star. Brendan’s a star, Tanya. All the warlock needs is enough time to get his heart.”

Tanya’s eyes went wide, and she stepped back, letting her hand fall from his shoulder. “Brendan’s a _what –_ no, never mind. I see why we need to go now.” She fell silent for a moment, her eyes closed, considering. She nodded sharply after some thought, then opened her eyes. “Give me a moment, then we’ll go.”

As Alex stood, quivering with impatience, Tanya slipped around the clearing to where Hilary and Amanda were still standing, huddled together. The Witch Queen had disappeared from her throne when Alex wasn’t paying attention, and was nowhere to be seen. Julie and Caroline were still working whatever magic with the white stones, and not paying attention, so there was no one there to notice when Tanya slid up next to Hilary and spoke in her ear. Alex couldn’t tell what she was saying, but Hilary gave her a sharp look. She and Amanda exchanged a long glance, then Amanda rolled her eyes as Hilary nodded, and followed Tanya back over to where Alex was waiting.

“We’ll come with you,” Hilary said, and then she and Amanda led the way back out the tunnel. Alex hung back, keeping them in sight but hopefully out of earshot.

“What did you tell them?” he asked Tanya, who shook her head.

“That we were going after him,” she said in an undertone. “They struck me as the impatient sort.”

“So you didn’t. . . “ Alex let his question trail off, and Tanya gave him a sharp look.

“No,” she said, her tone very final. Alex nodded and lengthened his stride to keep up with the witches.

They headed back through the tunnels, twisting and turning, until Alex was hopelessly lost again. The two witches, balls of conjured light floating beside them, paused at the entrance to another tunnel that Alex thought looked exactly like every other tunnel and looked around, frowning.

“This is where we found you,” Amanda said, squinting around in the darkness. “You said he went off that way?” She pointed off down the tunnel. Alex looked around, trying to orient himself, and shrugged.

“No idea,” he said. Amanda looked exasperated.

“You don’t _know?”_ she asked, and Alex glared at her.

“I can barely tell what direction we came from, let alone where he went,” he hissed. “Happy? Isn’t that the _point?”_

“Stop that, you two,” Tanya said absently, bending over to inspect the ground. “Amanda, can you move that light down here, please?”

Amanda kept glaring at Alex, but the small ball of light that had been floating above her shoulder drifted down and hovered about a foot off the floor. Tanya let out a satisfied sound.

“There’s enough dust down here that you can see tracks,” she said, straightening up. “And there’s a set that lead off this way.” She pointed the same direction Amanda had earlier, and Hilary eyed it with a feral grin.

“Let’s go,” she said, and conjured another light to hover at around shoulder height. Amanda left hers near the ground so that they could see the tracks they were following.

The tracks vanished eventually as the ground got rockier and more treacherous. They came to a fork in the passage, and looked at each other grimly. “Where to now?” Amanda asked.

Tanya looked up and down both passages, then shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, lifting her hands hopelessly. “I have no idea where either of these go, so - “

“Wait,” Hilary said, cutting her off. “I feel - “ she closed her eyes and tilted her head, looking like she was listening for something. Her eyes snapped open and flashed briefly with silver light. “He’s dropped his cloaking spell,” she said, and took off at a near run down the passageway to the right, Amanda on her heels.

Alex took off after her, but had to slow down quickly when he tripped over a rock and almost knocked himself out against the tunnel wall. Tanya steadied him as she passed, somehow almost managing to keep pace with Hilary despite the treacherous ground. Alex gritted his teeth and kept moving, dodging where he could and tripping where he couldn’t.

He was so focused on keeping his footing that he ran smack into Tanya, not realizing that the women had stopped. He staggered, and heard Tanya let out a soft “oomph,” but neither of them fell over. Hilary held up a hand, and Alex looked past her to where the tunnel opened back into the outside world. It was starting to get dark outside, but Alex could make out the same large pine trees that he’d been seeing earlier on the _Penguin_.

“He’s stopped moving,” Hilary said in a hushed voice. “He’s not far from here. I think I know where he went.” She glanced over at Amanda, who nodded in agreement. “Let’s go.”

She started to leave, but Tanya grabbed her by the shoulder. “If he’s smart, he’s set up protections,” Tanya said in an undertone. “And he is smart. How do we get past them?”

Hilary pursed her lips, looking over to Amanda, who shrugged. “I can cast a cloaking spell on us,” Amanda offered. “We’ll have to stick together, but if he’s conjured creatures it’ll keep them from noticing us for a while.”

“If he’s put up physical barriers, I can take care of them,” Hilary said, cracking her knuckles. “C’mon, Mandy. Let’s go.” Alex hissed, twitching a little as the magic swept over him, leaving him feeling tingly. He looked down at himself, but didn’t notice anything different.

“Stay close,” Amanda’s voice came out of seemingly nowhere, and Alex looked up wildly to see that his companions appeared to have vanished. “Here-” something grabbed Alex by the arm and he jumped and yelled. “It’s _me_ , idiot,” Amanda said, and grabbed him again. “Come on, I thought you said we were in a rush?”

Alex glared at where he thought she was, but followed along where she tugged him. They spent several minutes trudging through thick forest, ducking under tree branches and scrambling over logs before emerging at the edge of a large clearing that dead-ended in a cliff. The hand that had been tugging at him stopped, so Alex paused as well, eyeing the clearing. In the rapidly fading light, he could just make out several large boulders scattered on the ground, and a few scraggly trees.

“All right,” Hilary’s voice came in a whisper out of the darkness. “There’s a cave just across from where we’re standing, behind that boulder.” Alex looked, but he couldn’t see any cave. The cliff wall was smooth and unbroken. “He’s got it hidden under an illusion, and there are a pair of constructs and some other traps scattered around. Thoughts?”

“I don’t see anything,” Alex muttered, and Amanda squeezed his arm in reprimand.

“Can the two of you guide us around the traps?” Tanya asked.

“Probably,” Amanda said. Tanya hummed in response.

“Let’s see if we can sneak in without the constructs noticing us,” she suggested, and Alex nodded fervently, forgetting for a moment that no one could see him. His memory of those _things_ in Silver Lake was terrifyingly fresh. “If they do, I say we drop the stealth and run like hell.”

“My kind of plan,” Hilary said in approval, and Alex jolted as the hand on his arm started tugging him forward again. He followed, swallowing hard as his stomach lurched with nerves. _Brendan_ , he reminded himself. _We have to get to Brendan. Or else . . ._ he shoved that thought away. The idea that they might be too late was too horrifying to even contemplate.

Amanda was picking her way across the clearing with care, tugging him this way and that occasionally to avoid seemingly indistinguishable bits of ground. They were halfway across the clearing when an earsplitting shriek rent the air, and all of the sudden Alex could see Amanda, Hilary and Tanya right in front of him.

“Run!” Hilary yelled, then took off at a dead sprint across the clearing, heading for what looked like a solid rock wall. Tanya followed her, and then Amanda, and finally Alex, who felt frozen for a brief moment before he managed to get his legs to work. He pelted after them, almost tripping over his own feet in his hurry, and was the last person to make it to the cliff.

He watched as Hilary ran straight into the rock wall and vanished, followed by Tanya and Amanda, but he still hesitated, unwilling to run into what his eyes told him was a solid wall. He glanced over his shoulder and saw something with too many legs and claws bearing down on him, many eyes glowing red in the darkness. He felt like he was about to throw up. He closed his eyes and threw himself at the wall. . .

. . . and passed through without meeting any resistance. He opened his eyes and took in what looked like yet _another_ tunnel, this one a little wider than before. It would have been pitch dark, but one of the witches had conjured a small light that was floating just above them, illuminating the area around them enough that Alex could just see his companions. They were standing in a little cluster, watching him with some amusement and a lot of worry.

“Quick, before one of those things follows us,” Tanya said, and led the way down the tunnel as Alex flushed bright red and hurried to catch up.

0o0o0o0o0

The captain of the _Checker_ wasn’t happy at all to see them go, but in the end he had no choice. The Stormfasts were steep and treacherous, and even for such a small skyship as the _Checker_ , there were no good places to land. They’d flown in circles for what felt like hours, looping around and around a cluster of mountains before the captain had at last admitted defeat and brought the ship down to hover as best he could above a stretch of open ground, throwing down a rope ladder so that Jared and his group could climb to the ground.

“Where do you want us to wait for you, Your Highness?” the captain asked, his discontent clear on his face as he watched Ryan finish donning his armor before clambering to the ground. Jared sighed.

“You can’t stay in the Stormfasts,” he said. The captain looked like he’d dearly like to protest that, but he couldn’t. The Stormfasts were dangerous and full of bandits who would _love_ to get their hands on a royal sky ship - and the _Checker_ was a courier, without the armaments of a battleship. It would be easy prey.

“Can any of your men read the runes?” Jared asked, and made a face when the captain shook his head. He scrubbed a hand over his cheeks and tipped his head back, staring up at the sky as PK and Carey both armored up and started climbing to the ground. “Well, then - go ahead and leave the Stormfasts, but check back at this spot every few days for, oh - a week?” He glanced over at Jeff, who made a face and shrugged, clearly without an opinion on the matter. “A week,” he said again, this time with more confidence. “If we haven’t managed to conclude our business and be back here in a week, assume we’re dead and behave accordingly.”

The captain’s face pinched dangerously at that, but all he said was “Yes, Your Highness.” Jared thought that he would probably have to promote him - not many people had quite such a talent for conveying what an utter idiot they thought he was while still sounding that polite, and all of the ones he knew ranked higher than captain of a courier ship.

“Very good,” Jared said in his best princely manner before shrugging into the last of his own armor and starting down the ladder, closely followed by Jeff. When they reached the ground, Jared reached behind himself to double-check that his sword and shield were still properly attached as the ladder shivered once in the air and started to be retracted. Ryan watched it with the barest hint of a frown on his face.

“They’ll be back,” Jared reassured him, and Ryan blinked at him, his face smoothing out.

“I’m sure they will be,” he said, before turning away from the departing ship. “Now, Your Highness, where are we going?”

Jared closed his eyes and tossed the runes into the air, opening his eyes to catch them as they came down. They arranged themselves into what he was starting to recognize as the standard arrow pattern and he smiled grimly, looking up.

“West.”

They set off, quickly falling into line with Ryan at the front and PK and Carey bringing up the rear. They paused briefly mid-afternoon to eat and consult the runes again, this time headed northwest. They continued on until Ryan held up a hand, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Jared looked around, trying to see what had caught his attention, but could see nothing. It was coming up on sunset, and the forest was deeply in shadow.

“He’s nearby,” Ryan said, finally. “I can smell it.” Jared looked up at him, and saw that he was wearing an intent expression, and his hand was flexing by the hilt of his sword.

“Right,” Jared said. “Weapons out,” and they all drew swords. Jared pulled his helmet from where it was strapped to his shield and slipped it on, and he could see Jeff doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Jeff’s face was pale and his eyes were glittering, and Jared ruthlessly stuffed down the desire to reassure him. He focused on the warlock, banishing anything but the thought of revenge. He didn’t have time for anything else just now.

They moved forward quietly, spreading out slightly so that they formed a wedge with Ryan at the front. The sun had just dipped below the mountains when they came to the edge of a large open space. As he squinted through the trees, Jared could see the outline of several large boulders scattered across the ground, and the dark, rearing shape of a mountain silhouetted against the darkening sky. Ryan held up a hand and gestured for them to keep spreading out as they crept towards the edge of the trees.

They couldn’t have gone more than fifteen feet before a horrific shriek split the air. Jared jumped and bit back a yell as _something_ came looming up out of the darkness, hissing and snarling and spitting at him. He tried to dodge out of the way but was just too slow, and the something slammed into him, throwing him to the ground and tearing into him, ripping through his armor like it was nothing but paper. He screamed, the sound muffled a little by the dirt as he tried to get up and scramble away from the thing, whatever it was.

He felt something shove him, hard, and he got to his feet somehow, the pain in his back and shoulder searing as he dragged himself up. Jeff was standing in front of him, swinging again and again at something that hissed and writhed and struck back. Jeff’s blows were glancing off the thing’s heavily armored sides, and he was barely managing to use his shield to fend off its strikes. Jared stood rooted to the spot, momentarily - his entire body ached, and his ears were ringing. Then Jeff was stumbling back, cursing as the thing he was fighting whipped a giant stinger-like tail over his shield and struck him in the chest, and Jared was up and moving, ignoring the screaming pain in his shoulder as he tried to strike at the creature as well.

From the shouting and shrieking he could hear, Ryan, PK and Carey were engaged as well, but he couldn’t tell how many other creatures the warlock might have conjured. The thing that he and Jeff were fighting had too many heads to be natural, and claws - not to mention the _tail_ , which burned like it was tipped with poison when it caught him- and Jared remembered the nightmare creatures that the warlock had conjured in Silver Lake and wished desperately, for a squad, a battalion, an _army_.

The rapidly deepening shadows didn’t seem to be having an impact on the creatures - when he’d dived out of the way of another of the thing’s heads, he’d seen Carey trying to toss his lasso over the tail of yet another giant _thing_ , so there were at least two of them - but if it kept up, he and his men were going to be fighting each other as well as the constructs. Jared ducked and spun and fought his way over to the edge of the trees, landing a few glancing blows as he did on the construct that Jeff seemed to be distracting, and ducked behind a tree to grab a torch. He fumbled in his belt pouch for a moment before producing a striker, and he had to try several times to get his hands to stop shaking long enough to get the torch lit. Once he had it, he stepped back out into the clearing, holding the torch aloft to get his first good look at what they were fighting.

Jeff was standing in front of him, his sword and shield raised, as what looked like a giant scorpion with two snake’s heads towered over him, hissing menacingly, tail and claws hovering within striking distance. Just on the other side of it, Ryan was in the middle of slamming his sword into the thing’s side, shouting something unintelligible. Behind him, Carey was struggling to hold onto his rope as a giant crab with spider fangs and a clubbed tail roared and slammed itself backwards into a tree away from him. Jared couldn’t see PK immediately, then forgot about him as the giant scorpion darted past Jeff and plowed into him, knocking him down into the dirt _again_. He lost hold of the torch in the fall and forgot about it for a moment as he rolled aside, trying to get out of the way of the claws and tail that were slamming into the ground beside him. He scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily, and saw to his horror that the torch had landed in a pile of dead bracken not far from where he’d landed. As he watched, it began to smoke, and then crackle. He darted forward, hoping to snuff it out, but the creature interposed itself between him and the fire, snarling, and by the time he managed to maneuver himself around it, the fire was already spreading, reaching with eager fingers for the dry tinder that littered the forest floor.

0o0o0o0o0

The tunnel went for a couple of yards before splitting in two. Tanya paused at the intersection and glanced back at Hilary and Amanda, who appeared to hold a silent conversation in raised eyebrows and head tilts. Alex glanced at the fork, his hand tensing and relaxing around the hilt of his sword. Every minute they stalled was another minute that the warlock was alone with Brendan. The memory of the warlock standing over Brendan’s limp body holding a knife kept popping back into his head, causing his stomach to swoop queasily.

“This way,” Amanda said decisively, turning left and proceeding down the tunnel. She hadn’t gone more than a few yards when _something_ appeared, seeming to slide out of the wall. Alex stopped dead in the hallway as it reached towards Amanda, who yelped and skittered out of the way. She was almost fast enough, but the thing was just faster and caught the edge of her shoulder. There was a flare of light and the smell of something burning and Amanda yelled in pain. Hilary said something indistinct and thrust her hand forward at the glowing shape, which recoiled away from Amanda as beams of bright blue light shot towards it. Some of them hit, and the creature hissed in pain. It sounded like the sizzling noise you got when you quenched hot metal at the forge.

There was another flare of light, and then the creature was gone, appearing to step into the solid rock of the walls and vanish. There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the sound of Amanda’s harsh breathing. Tanya went over to check up on her as Alex hung back, eyeing the walls of the tunnel nervously.

“What _was_ that?” he asked Hilary, who was also eyeing the walls.

“Fire spirit, probably,” she said, flexing her fingers. Alex glanced down at her, then edged away, remembering the sight of those beams of light coming out of her hand and slamming into the glowing, yellow-orange shape. It _had_ flickered like fire, he thought. Hilary looked over and flashed a quick grin at him, then wandered over to Amanda and peered at the wound.

“You okay, Mandy?” she asked. Amanda nodded, and rolled her shoulders. “Let’s keep going, then.”

They continued down the tunnel for a while longer. Alex was keeping to the back of the group, eyeing the walls warily, so the first he knew that they’d hit a dead end was Hilary swearing loudly. They turned around and hurried back along the tunnel and took what they hoped was the correct fork this time, moving more quickly as they did. When they reached another fork, Amanda swore.

“What?” Alex asked. He was already keyed up and twitchy, jumping at any strange shadow or flicker of movement. That Amanda and Hilary were swearing at the tunnels was making him nervous. He thought they knew where they were going - what if they couldn’t get to Brendan in time?

“This is - wrong,” Amanda said, reaching out and putting a hand on the rough stone of the wall. “I don’t remember this at all - Hil?”

“I’m not sure,” Hilary admitted. “I don’t get over this way very often. But you’re right, it feels. . .” She trailed off, and lifted her hands, closing her eyes. A strange wind whipped around them briefly, and Alex twitched. Knowing that magic worked on this side of the wall was different from _seeing_ it worked in front of him.

Hilary opened her eyes and sighed. “Something’s wrong with it, but I can’t tell _what_. And I just get a general sense of _further in_ from him, not which fork to take. Mandy?”

Amanda shook her head. “No idea. Split up?”

Tanya shook her head in turn. “Bad idea. It’ll just take more time. We just need to pick one and see if we can get through.”

They started down the left-hand tunnel again, but Alex hung back, uneasy. _The warlock wants his heart_ , he thought. His hands started to shake. Something about the tunnel the others were going down seemed _wrong_ to him, but he couldn’t explain why. “I don’t think it’s that way,” he started to say, and then there was another burst of yellow-orange light and he yelled in shock.

Another fire spirit exploded out of the wall and tried to slam into Tanya. She raised her shield just in time. Sparks flew where the spirit had impacted her shield, and Tanya bared her teeth at it. The fire spirit didn’t look like it had much in the way of a body, but Tanya was able to shove it away from her, towards the wall of the tunnel, and this time Amanda was the one who managed to hit it. Her beams of light were a light misty green that smoked when they touched the creature. It hissed again, sounding angry, and retreated into the walls.

There was a brief silence, then Tanya looked back at Alex. “You were saying something?” she said, and Alex blinked and refocused.

“Oh. Uh, I don’t think that’s the right way,” he said, pointing at the tunnel they’d been heading down. “The other one felt right.” All three women stared at him, and Alex felt himself flushing. He wasn’t sure how much they could see in the darkness, but he looked at the ground anyway.

“Are you sure?” Amanda asked, and Alex nodded, glancing back up. Hilary and Amanda were both looking at him as though he’d done something unexpected and intriguing. Tanya seemed a little worried, but was mostly impatient.

“Right then,” she said, striding back towards the other tunnel. “Let’s see where this goes.”

0o0o0o0o0

Jared tried to lunge towards the fire again, but one of the creature’s two heads came down and tried to bite him again, and he had to twist at the last second to dodge out of the way so that it scraped along his backplate instead of taking off his head. He tried again, but the creature whipped its tail at him and he tripped trying to get out of the way, gritting his teeth as he felt the burning sensation that told him the stinger had hit again.

“Stop. That,” Jeff grunted, using his shield to smack away the stinger as the creature whipped its tail around for another attack. “Creature now, fire later!”

Jared glanced over his shoulder one more time - the fire was starting to grow, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t going to stop, but Jeff was right. He turned and ducked back underneath another of the creature’s heads as it swiped at him again, then felt the air get shoved from his lungs as its claws slammed into his chest, shoving him backwards.

He tried to maneuver around it so that he and Jeff could attack as a team, but the thing was too quick, slamming into them with its claws and tail, letting out shrieks as it struck with its heads. He could hear Ryan shouting something vaguely over the clashing of swords and shields, and the screaming of the constructs. Jeff was starting to slow down, and Jared could feel his own strength starting to sap away. They were hitting the constructs sometimes, but the creatures didn’t seem to be slowing down in any appreciable way.

Jared was _just_ too slow in getting his shield up, and the snake’s head buried its fangs in his shoulder, causing him to shout and fall to his knees, his whole body locking up with the pain. His sword fell from his numbed fingers, and over the roaring in his ears he could hear Jeff screaming something as he battered away at the creature’s neck. The fangs tore through his skin as they pulled out and the burning, tearing sensation was so intense that Jared almost blacked out from the pain.

He came back to his senses when Jeff grabbed him by the arm, yanking at him. “Get up, _get up_ ,” he was chanting frantically as he tried to haul Jared to his feet. “Oh my god, Jared, you have to get up-”

Jared blinked and looked around. Ryan had somehow appeared in front of them, and was standing between them and the creature, deflecting its attacks. There was roaring coming from off to one side, and some more shouting, so it seemed like PK and Carey had their creature in hand. He started struggling to get up, to help support himself, and looked up into Jeff’s face. The flickering firelight glinted off something wet on his face that didn’t look like blood. He reached out towards it and Jeff batted his hand away.

“Stop that,” he said sharply, and pulled on Jared’s arm again, moving to put himself under Jared’s shoulder and heave. “Get up!”

Obediently, Jared tried to help move himself, but as he did the pain from his wounds came screaming back and he staggered. Jeff grabbed him around the waist and dragged him backwards, away from the creature, and deposited him at the edge of the clearing, half-slumped over and leaning on a tree to be mostly upright. Jared coughed, and sagged against the tree as his shoulder and back screamed in protest. There was a creeping blackness at the edges of his vision as he looked up at Jeff.

Jeff’s face was streaked with sweat and dirt and blood, dripping from a cut that had opened up high on his forehead just below his helm. He looked exhausted and terrified, but determined as he readjusted his grip on his sword and squared his shoulders.

“Stay here,” Jeff ordered, then ran back towards the fight. Jared wanted to call after him - _No, don’t, you’ll get killed_ \- but a sudden, wracking cough left him doubled over in pain and clutching at the tree for support as he watched Jeff go, unable to move after him.

0o0o0o0o0

 The tunnel twisted again and again as it led deeper into the mountain. At each branching, Alex felt the insistent tugging of _something_ , some instinct that was directing him to take the proper path. No one was arguing with him, although the witches were exchanging significant looks at every intersection that were making Alex uncomfortable.

They were advancing as fast as they could while still being wary. It felt like every fifteen feet or so there would be a flicker and then a flash of light as a fire spirit lunged out of the walls and struck someone, burning them before it vanished back into the walls. Sometimes Hilary or Amanda was fast enough to hit it with one of the rays that seemed to hurt it, or Tanya managed to slam it with her shield, but it always vanished back into the walls before they were able to mount a concerted attack on it. Alex tried to hit it a few times, when it got close to him, but he wasn’t quite fast enough with his sword and missed.

“You’ve only been training with that for a few days,” Tanya said, when Alex threw the sword down at the cave floor in disgust. The fire spirit had darted out from the wall, struck Alex in the shoulder, and then vanished before any of them could get a weapon on it.

Tanya picked up the sword and handed it back to him. “Practice is the only way to get better,” she said, and turned back to the tunnel. “Now, which way are we going?”

“Left,” Alex said, feeling the slight twinge that told him that was the correct tunnel. He was pretty sure Brendan was doing it somehow, telling him how to find him, but he didn’t know _what_ Brendan was doing or how he was doing it. He was just trying to get to Brendan before he died.

Hilary ghosted forward to take point, and Tanya fell back to guard the rear. Alex hung back a little so that he walked closer to Tanya - which was why when the poison cloud came billowing down the tunnel, seeming to ooze from every crack and crevice in the walls, he was close enough for Tanya to grab him by the shoulder and shove him down against the ground, where the cloud wasn’t so thick.

Alex tried to take a deep breath and hold it, but the cloud moved too quickly and he got some of it. He coughed, hacking desperately to try and get it out of his chest as his throat and lungs burned. He was light-headed, tiny sparks of light bursting behind his eyes, which flooded with tears and his skin burned as the cloud curled and wisped around him, and he buried his face in the ground and tried to curl into a ball so that he didn’t expose himself to more of it.

He could hear the others coughing too, but his eyes were burning so he kept them tightly closed, terrified of what the cloud might do to them. _Brendan,_ he thought miserably as terrible, wracking coughs tore through him. _Brendan I’m sorry_. His body was working frantically to draw in air, seemingly unaware that breathing it was what was _causing_ the trouble. Brighter and brighter lights seemed to be exploding in his brain, and his mind scrambled, unable to focus on anything. He was going to die, he was going to die. . .

And then there was a wind that whirled and blew around him. Alex took in a breath and though his lungs still burned, the burning didn’t increase like it had been. He cautiously opened his streaming eyes to see Hilary, on her knees against the wall of the tunnel, her hands outstretched as the wind shredded the cloud, dispersing it and pushing it away from them. Alex wiped at his eyes, but the tears kept coming as his body tried to expel the toxins. He was still coughing, but it was starting to hurt a little less as he dragged clean air into his lungs. He was glad he was still lying on the ground, because he felt weak with relief, and worried that if he’d been standing, he might have fallen over.

There was a telltale flicker, and Alex opened his mouth but the only thing that came out was a raspy squeak as the fire spirit darted from the wall and enveloped Hilary. The wind dropped immediately, and Alex moaned as the cloud started to reform. He took a deep breath and surged to his feet, starting to run towards Hilary - but Amanda beat him to the punch. She reached towards the fire spirit, and Alex saw her hand glow a bright red as she grabbed it and _yanked_.

He wasn’t sure what had happened, but the fire spirit let out a shriek and seemed to be torn in two, dissipating instead of vanishing back into the walls. He’d reached Hilary by that point, and joined Tanya in trying to beat out the flames that had started to spring from her hair and her clothes. Her skin was red, but didn’t look shiny or cracked in the way that nasty burns did. Alex thought they’d probably been just in time to prevent the damage from being too bad. Hilary took a breath, let out a hacking cough, and then brought her hands up again to call the wind, which dispersed the swiftly forming cloud.

“Thanks,” she croaked when she finally had her breath back, reaching out and nudging Alex and Tanya in the shoulders. “Good work, Mandy.”

“Good work getting it to hold still long enough for me to grab it,” Amanda said, brushing a hand that seemed to glow over Hilary’s shoulder. Alex glanced away quickly, because Hilary’s clothes now had some unfortunate holes - but the red seemed to have leached out of her skin.

“I think we’re getting close,” Tanya said, her voice hoarse. She pulled out a water skin and took a swig, then passed it over to Alex absently. He took it with a muttered “Thanks,” that burned his throat, and hastily took a drink. The water felt wonderful as it soothed his abraded throat.

“Which way?” Hilary asked, her voice still shredded but her face intent. She clearly thought they were getting close as well. Something that felt almost like hope began gathering itself in Alex’s chest. He pointed, unable to speak through the feeling, and they set off down the tunnel with as much speed as they could muster.

0o0o0o0o0

As Jared watched helplessly, the fire continued to expand. The pain had evened out some, and he tried to get to his feet - only to fall back against the tree, panting. He could now feel a prickling, burning sensation around some of his wounds in addition to the searing pain of the cuts and lacerations - the bite on his shoulder, and some of the stings in his arms and back. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, this time using the tree for balance. He had to get back into the fight - he had to help _somehow_.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward - only to stagger back against the tree as an explosion ripped through the area, outlining the scorpion-tailed construct momentarily in lines of bright orange fire. There were yells of surprise and pain from behind the construct, and Jared was torn between fear and gratitude - they were still alive, but for how much longer?

He lurched forward again, heading for the construct, intent on helping, but he had only just gotten in range when the tail came whipping over its head and he couldn’t make himself move fast enough to dodge. He slammed into the ground, and must have blacked out from the pain or the blood loss, because he seemed to be fading in and out, only seeing snatches of what happened next -

_the construct seemed to be retreating, and Ryan was going after it with a grimly determined look on his face, with Carey just visible behind him_

_Ryan on his knees, Carey standing beside him with his lasso in one hand and a sword in the other_

_another explosion, bodies on the ground_

_a flash of light, and a scream his heart stuttered to recognize as Jeff’s_

\- and then, darkness.

0o0o0o0o0

Alex stared at the blank stone wall that was in front of him. “I don’t understand,” he muttered, staring at it. “I could have sworn - I thought I knew. . . “ he trailed off, still staring at it.

This tunnel came to an abrupt dead end, no forks, no other way around. And it was the tunnel that Alex had been leading them down, feeling the _thing_ he thought was somehow Brendan-related. He felt increasingly stupid, now, as he stared at the wall. How could he have thought that he _knew_ where Brendan was? He didn’t have any magic, any _real_ connection with Brendan - they were just two people who’d known each other for a couple of weeks. His hands curled up into fists almost without him realizing it, and he relaxed them with some effort.

“You couldn’t have known,” Hilary said. Alex felt the back of his neck begin to heat up, and his hands balled themselves up again at the condescending tone of her voice. “C’mon, there was another fork back this way.”

He heard footsteps behind him as Hilary and Amanda started back down the tunnel. A hand touched his shoulder. “We’ll find him,” Tanya said, squeezing his shoulder tightly before letting go. Alex nodded absently, staring blindly at the wall of stone in front of him as he heard her start to leave as well. Frustration, simmering slowly in his stomach ever since they had turned the corner and discovered the dead end, boiled over, and Alex lashed out at the wall.

“FUCK!”

Instead of the solid stone he expected, he met no resistance as his arm sank up to his elbow into the wall. He drew it back out and stared at his fist, confused, then spun around and raced back the way they’d come.

“It’s not real, it’s not real,” he called, pounding down the tunnel and gasping a little at the sting in his burned throat. Tanya appeared at the mouth of the tunnel almost at once, quickly followed by the witches.

“What?” Amanda’s voice was sharp, eager. “You’re sure?”

“My arm went straight through it,” Alex said, his voice shredded. He couldn’t stop himself from coughing and winced, feeling his eyes fill with tears as his abused throat protested. He wiped his eyes impatiently and looked up to see Hilary and Amanda disappearing down towards the fake wall. Tanya stayed just long enough to make sure that Alex was alright.

“Come on - stick close behind me,” she said once she was sure. She drew her sword and her shield and rushed down the tunnel at the fake wall. Alex drew his own sword and followed her.

Once they were through the illusion, Alex had a brief moment to get the sense of a much more open cave, one with a high ceiling and walls that curved away out of the light, before Tanya was shoving him out of the way and interposing her shield between them and something bright and nasty-looking. Peering around the shield, Alex saw that Hilary and Amanda had spread out, and were flinging jets of light at the warlock. The warlock was standing with his back to a large, flat stone that came up to about his waist, wearing an enraged snarl and wielding the same large knife that he’d had at the inn in one hand. With the other he deflected the jets of light away or back towards Hilary and Amanda - and sometimes threw jets of his own light, or bright glowing discs that exploded into things. Alex only had so much attention to spare for the magical battle, however, because lying on the large flat stone was-

“Brendan!”

He didn’t seem to be moving, and Alex’s heart stopped in his chest. He looked around wildly and saw a pile of rubble that had probably used to be a stalactite or stalagmite. He ran for it, bent double, and dodged out of the way as a stray streak of light shot past him, burning a little as it grazed his arm. Tanya shouted something after him, but he ignored it, focused on getting to shelter. He crouched behind the rubble pile and surveyed the cave, then began creeping towards the stone where Brendan was lying, trying not to draw the warlock’s attention. Once or twice, the warlock deflected a spell at him, but Alex managed to dodge out of the way or duck behind another pile of rubble. The warlock didn’t seem to be paying much attention to him, was more focused on the two witches and Tanya, who was advancing on him, deflecting spells with her shield or dodging out of the way.

Alex managed to get within a few yards of Brendan and crouched there for a moment, breathing hard. Just then, Tanya reached the warlock and crashed into him, finally shoving him away from the stone - and Amanda screamed and dropped to the ground as she wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid a direct hit by one of the warlock’s spells.

Hilary screamed as well, in rage and pain, and hurled an explosion of spells at the warlock as Tanya tried to ram into him again. Alex took the opportunity to dash towards the rock, crouching as best he could so that he was hidden from the warlock by the stone’s bulk.

Brendan was laying on the stone, arms and legs bound. For a moment Alex was sure he was dead, that they were too late - but his chest was whole, and moving slightly, so Alex was able to breathe again. He glanced up, saw that Tanya had her sword crossed with the warlock’s knife as Hilary knelt by Amanda and continued to fling spells, and then looked back at Brendan.

His eyes were weirdly blank, and he lay unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Alex didn’t like the look of it, but he had to get Brendan as far away from the warlock as possible, so he stood and grabbed Brendan and started dashing back towards cover.

He was halfway towards the nearest pile of rubble when the warlock seemed to notice that Alex was making off with his prize. There was a scream of fury and a sound like an explosion. Alex turned his head just in time to see both Hilary and Tanya lifted off their feet and thrown in opposite directions away from the warlock. They hit the ground and didn’t move, just as a horribly familiar immobility locked Alex in place. He stood there, frozen, with Brendan hanging over his shoulder, as the warlock made for him, his long knife upraised.

“You,” the warlock said in disgust as he approached. “You again!” He shook his head and continued towards Alex, whose heartbeat pounded in his ears as he strained to move something, _anything._ His mouth was completely dry as the warlock advanced, and he felt so utterly lightheaded with fear that he might have crumpled to the ground without the freezing spell.

“I should have killed you _much_ earlier,” the warlock spat as he reached them, hefting the long knife in his hand and eyeing Alex with contempt. Behind the warlock, something stirred on the ground, but Alex couldn’t make out what it was. He was too focused on the knife wielded by a man wearing the nastiest grin he’d ever seen. Alex couldn’t breathe, couldn’t shut his eyes, couldn’t do anything but watch as the warlock stabbed him in the stomach. The sudden tearing agony was incredible, but he could not shout or scream or double over - he was stuck there, completely frozen as the warlock withdrew the knife and brought back his arm again. “I think I’ll do it slowly,” he murmured, and moved as though to stab him again when there was a strange meaty _tearing_ sound and his face slackened abruptly in surprise.

Something warm splashed against his chest, and Alex watched, still frozen, as a thin red line appeared, stretching across the warlock’s neck. He slowly dropped out of sight, and Alex heard two heavy _thumps_ a half-second later. Standing directly behind him, breathing heavily, was Tanya, her sword held flung out to one side and a look of righteous fury upon her face as she glared down.

There was nothing but silence in the cave for a long moment, and then Tanya looked up at Alex. “Are you alright?” she asked, stepping towards him and reaching out a hand for his shoulder. Alex suddenly discovered that he could move and breathe again when he gasped and nearly fainted at the pain in his gut. He let out a hoarse noise and doubled over, nearly dropping Brendan - he would have, but Tanya managed to catch them both before they hit the ground.

“Alex?” Tanya asked, her voice slightly higher than usual, but calm. “What happened? I didn’t see. . . “ she trailed off as she pulled his hand away from his wound and finally saw it. “Oh,” she said.

“Alex? Tanya?” came another voice, sounding dazed. Brendan struggled to his feet, blinking in confusion. Alex bit back a scream of pain as Brendan’s struggling jostled his injury. “What happened? The last thing I knew, I was going with the warlock - oh,” he said, apparently spotting the warlock’s body on the ground.

“Hilary,” Tanya called, maneuvering so that she had one of Alex’s arms slung over her shoulders. “Can you fix this, or do we need to go get someone else to do it?”

“Fix what?” Brendan asked, his voice getting sharper. “What happened? Alex?” He moved around so that he was in front of Alex now, and even through the pain Alex was quietly relieved to see him up and moving around again. The blank-faced, unresponsive Brendan had scared him.

“You’re hurt!” Brendan sounded furious, and Alex blinked and looked at him. Brendan’s face was grayish-white in the weirdly patchy light in the cave, and his eyes were glittering strangely. Alex groaned as Brendan hurried around to his side and lifted Alex’s other arm over his shoulders.

Hilary glanced up from where she was kneeling next to Amanda, holding on to one of her hands. She looked absolutely exhausted, but she rocked back on her haunches to examine Alex’s wound as Tanya and Brendan helped him across the cave. Alex nearly bit his lip bloody to stay silent. She clicked her tongue when she was done and looked back down at Amanda, whose hand she was still clutching.

“I’m almost tapped out,” she said, and glanced up at Alex. “I can fix that, but - “ her voice broke and she had to clear her throat. “I don’t have enough to fix her. And I - “ she blinked and looked down, biting her lip.

“”We’ll take Amanda straight back to the court,” Tanya said gently. “It’ll go faster if we only have one invalid, though.”

Hilary shook herself, then nodded. She pressed a hand to Alex’s stomach and he couldn’t hold back a yell. It _burned_ , like he’s pressed an iron straight out of the fire to his skin. The burning sensation faded after a moment, and so did the pain. He took a deep breath, a little surprised, then looked down at Hilary.

“Thank you,” he said, really meaning it, before turning to look at Brendan. Brendan was looking back at him, wearing an expression that made his heart pound ridiculously. His throat went dry, and words deserted him.

“Moon at each other later,” Tanya advised, bending over to help Hilary hoist Amanda up. Alex felt the back of his neck heat up, and suddenly had to look away from Brendan. “We need to get out of here - Alex, can you find our way back out?”

“I don’t -” _know_ , Alex was about to say, but then he finally took a good look around him at the cave, which had changed. The rock walls and the entrance they had taken into this space were gone, and the cave seemed to have expanded. “Um. Did the tunnels vanish?”

“They were never there,” Hilary said, sounding weary. “That bastard made a maze.” She bent down and picked something up off the floor as they walked past the warlock’s body and out towards the exit.

“That seems like something he would do,” Tanya agreed, and Brendan made an angry sound. “Good riddance.” Together they made their way out of the cave as fast as possible.

0o0o0o0o0

When they exited the cave, Alex blinked, startled and confused. A pair of men wearing armor were standing in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by a circle of women, some of whom Alex recognized as witches. The Witch Queen herself was standing in the circle, wearing a dark red leather jerkin over her clothing from earlier and a fierce expression on her face. The entire scene was illuminated by an angry red-orange light emanating from the burning forest surrounding the clearing. A pair of witches were standing a little ways outside the circle with their hands outstretched in a pose Alex was beginning to recognize as “doing magic,” probably trying to put it out.

 Alex didn’t recognize either of the men the witches were surrounding, but Tanya did, apparently. “Captain McDonagh!” she snapped, and one of them jerked to attention and turned to her. He was pale, with brown hair and a slightly large nose, wearing heavy plate armor that was scratched, dented and looked scorched down one side. He was holding an enormous sword, point down, clearly trying to be non-threatening.

“Report!” Tanya ordered, handing Amanda off to Hilary and striding towards the circle. The other man turned to look at her as well, and Alex recognized him with a start of surprise.

“Isn’t that P.K., the tailor from Silver Lake?” Brendan asked, and Alex nodded, bemused. Ryan had begun explaining something to Tanya, waving an arm at the clearing. Alex looked around again and saw, with some horror, that there were three bodies lying scattered around. He shuddered and looked away - he couldn’t tell if they were breathing or not, but the rest of the group didn’t seem overly concerned, so he wouldn’t worry about it too much.

“I wonder what they’re doing here,” Brendan said, and Alex shrugged. He was much less interested in figuring out what P.K. and the new men were doing here than finally getting a chance to look over Brendan and make sure he was really okay. The eerie, flickering light from the slowly dying fire was better than the faint glowing from the small witchlight Hilary had maintained in the cave so they wouldn’t trip.

“What?” Brendan asked, looking over to see that Alex was staring at him. He looked - tired, Alex thought. Very tired, and his hands were still trembling slightly. He had a small scratch on his forehead that was oozing a little bit of blood - just a few drops, just enough to be seen, but it made Alex’s insides clench up again at the reminder of what had almost happened. His face must have done something, because Brendan’s expression shifted to confusion, and he stepped towards Alex. “What?” he asked again, a little more quietly.

“You’ve got - “ Alex reached out and wiped away the blood that was beginning to drip down Brendan’s face. He let his hand linger there for longer than he should have, but Brendan was warm and alive beneath his hand, and Alex didn’t ever want to let him go. He’d come so close to losing him -

“Hey,” Brendan said, and it was like they were reading each other’s minds - Alex reached out to pull him in and Brendan was already stepping forward, opening his arms to grab onto Alex and hold him tight. Alex finally closed his eyes and relaxed - Brendan was here, he was fine and he was _here_ , the warlock hadn’t gotten him, he was fine.

“You came for me,” Brendan said, and he sounded so surprised that Alex pulled back a little and looked down at him.

“Of course I did,” he said, sharply. Something tight knotted up in his stomach at the thought that Brendan had _doubted_ , that he’d thought Alex might not come. “C’mon, Brendan - of _course_ I came.”

Brendan let out a shuddering breath and buried his face in Alex’s chest. Alex felt his shirt go a little damp, and rubbed a hand soothingly over Brendan’s back.

“Sorry,” Brendan said after several long moments, finally pulling away. His eyes were a little red, but Alex didn’t say anything. “Sorry, I just - there’s stories, about what happens to you if you fall. And all the stories say that the humans, they’re just after your heart, they don’t really care what happens to _you_. So when he got me,” he swallowed. “I was pretty sure that was it.” He smiled, then, and it was weaker than Alex had ever seen it, but it was a smile. “But you - you asked me to stay. You came after me. You _like_ me.”

“No I don’t,” Alex said, flustered, and he started half-heartedly trying to shove Brendan away from him. Brendan clung tightly, his smile broadening.

“You _like_ me,” Brendan repeated, and his voice grew teasing. “You _like_ me, you _love_ me, you can’t live without me. . .” he trailed off, then, his eyes growing wide, as he felt Alex tense against him, involuntarily.

“I changed my mind, the warlock can have you,” Alex said, and even to himself he sounded completely unconvincing. His heart was pounding in his chest and he looked away from Brendan, his whole face heating up.

“You don’t mean that,” Brendan said, and he sounded so happy that Alex glanced back at him. He was beaming.

“You’re okay I guess,” he muttered, and Brendan laughed and leaned up to kiss him, just a quick peck. He pulled away quickly and peered up at Alex, looking a little hesitant. It was just like Brendan, Alex thought with a sudden rush of affection, to only look after he’d already leapt. Alex bent down and kissed him, lingering this time, making sure Brendan knew that it was very welcome.

“You like me,” Brendan murmured, his eyes still closed but with a smile curving his lips. Alex rolled his eyes just as Brendan opened his. “It’s okay,” he said, like he was telling Alex a secret. “I like you too.”

0o0o0o0o0

 Jared regained consciousness to the knowledge of pain. Every part of his body ached, and he let out a low groan as he opened his eyes. The world swam into focus, and he registered Ryan standing over him with a tall black woman who he recognized as Captain Tanya of the Royal Guard. He frowned and started to push himself up on his elbows, then let out a gasp as his ribs protested. Someone put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down, gently.

“Easy now, Your Highness,” said a female voice with what Jared considered an unnecessary amount of sarcasm on his title. He blinked up at her, and saw a dark-skinned, dark-eyed woman smirking down at him. “You had three broken ribs, a bunch of major lacerations, and a serious case of poisoning. I fixed what I could, but you’re not going to be feeling well for a while.”

“Oh,” Jared said after a long moment. She laughed a little, then stood up. “Does that fulfill the terms of our bargain, Captain?”

“Yes,” Captain Tanya said, and looked down at Jared with a glare hovering around the edges of her expression. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the woman said, and bowed ever so slightly to the captain as she moved away. Jared frowned up at them, then tried to turn his head and look around.

“What _happened?_ ” he asked, trying not to sound too plaintive. He started pushing himself up on his elbows, a little more carefully this time, and Ryan bent down to help him, supporting some of Jared’s weight and shifting a rock over for him to lean against.

“We won,” Ryan said, blandly, and Jared scowled at him. “We defeated the two constructs that the warlock had left to guard his lair, and Captain Grier and her companions took care of the warlock himself.”

“The warlock is dead?” Jared asked sharply, and Captain Tanya nodded, still looking unhappy.

“Hilary,” she called, and a tall brunette wearing witch robes detached herself from the circle of witches Jared now noticed was clustered nearby and trotted over.

“Do you still have the head?” Captain Tanya asked, and the other woman nodded, holding up a severed head for her inspection. Jared’s stomach heaved a little bit, but he swallowed hard and mastered himself. The head was that of a middle-aged, bland-featured man with thinning brown hair.

“Ah,” he said weakly. “Very good, captain. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and for all her words were respectful, her tone bordered on insubordinate. She nodded at the witch - Hilary - and she went back to the circle of witches, who Jared could now see were clustered around a smaller figure on the ground.

Jared looked up at Ryan, and swallowed. “Carey? P.K.?” He hesitated, glancing around. “Jeff?”

“They’ll recover,” Ryan said, which was not as encouraging as he probably thought. “P.K. only had some minor cuts and bruising - the first construct, the one he and Carey were fighting, it didn’t seem to have any poisons, although he took some minor burns when they destroyed it and it exploded. The second construct took Carey down when _it_ exploded - some superficial burns, and he hit his head when he fell. Jeff had the worst of it - he got some of the explosion from the second construct as well, and he triggered some sort of trap and got hit by a bolt of lightning.”

Jared felt his heart stop beating briefly. _They’ll recover_ , Ryan had said - did he mean all of them, or only P.K. and Carey?

“Is he awake yet?” came a weary voice from behind him, and Jared almost fell over trying to crane his head around to see Jeff standing there, leaning on P.K., who still looked cut up and bruised. Jared’s heart restarted and he slumped against the rock behind his back, relief briefly turning all of his muscles to water.

“The fire?” Jared asked, refocusing on Ryan and Captain Tanya now that he knew all of his men would survive.

“The fire that the warlock’s constructs set has been dealt with,” Ryan said with a warning look at Jared that he considered beside the point. _He_ certainly didn’t want to admit that he’d caused a fire in the Witch Queen’s forest. He finally noticed that the light in the clearing was the clear, steady glow of dozens of magical lights, floating in the air.

“Yes, you’re lucky we arrived when we did,” came a new voice, and an imposing woman with chin-length blonde hair walked over to stand beside Captain Tanya. She eyed Jared with interest. “Is this him, then?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Captain Tanya said, and Jared blinked in surprise up into the face of the Witch Queen of Stormhold.

“Well then,” the Witch Queen said. “I imagine that we have some things to discuss, kingling.”

 _Kingling._ Jared’s stomach dropped as he looked up at her. “Your Majesty,” he began, and halted, unsure of how to finish that sentence. “Your Majesty,” he said again, slowly, “I would of course be delighted to discuss many things with you, if I am crowned.”

There was a brief, frozen silence. The Witch Queen’s expression did not change, but he eyes flickered over his face, and she tilted her head to one side. “If?” she repeated. “I am given to understand that you are the last of your line. That would make you the king, does it not?”

He swallowed and glanced around. The crowd around them was starting to grow bigger, as the rest of the people in the clearing drifted over to see what was going on. Jeff caught his eye and made a wry face at him, clearly thinking the same thing that Jared was - he was _not_ the last of his line. He kind of wanted to be, though, because when Jordan woke up he was going to kill Jared for letting all this happen.

“Your Majesty, I am afraid it isn’t quite as simple as that,” Jared said, very carefully. “My late father set the terms of succession so that the first to complete a task became the king after him. I have not yet completed my task, and so I cannot yet negotiate with you _as_ a king.”

The Witch Queen’s mouth twitched. “I see. Well, kingling, if you will send an invitation to your coronation, I or one of mine will come, and we will see about these negotiations. Your Captain has guaranteed us safe passage.” She glanced over at Captain Tanya, who nodded.

The Witch Queen turned and strode off, calling to her people. They followed her, which meant that the only people standing around Jared were Ryan, P.K., Carey, Jeff, Captain Tanya and two young men he’d never seen before, who were both observing him with interest.

“What’s the task you have to complete?” the shorter one asked him, then yelped as the taller one stepped on his foot.

“Oh my god, Brendan,” he groaned. “Really?”

“What?” Brendan asked, and both the taller man and Tanya rolled their eyes.

“He’s a _prince_ , idiot, you can’t just ask him things like that.” The taller man grimaced apologetically at Jared. “Please don’t have him killed.”

“I won’t have him killed,” Jared said, bemused, just as Brendan said loudly, “I don’t see why him being a prince makes any difference. Eric was fine with talking to us.”

Eric’s name sends a stab of pain through Jared - his big brother, turned to stone. Then he thinks about what Brendan had just said and tries to sit up straighter, looking at them. “You knew my brother?”

“I don’t think _knew_ is the right word, really,” the taller one muttered. “We ran into them,” he gestured at Tanya, “on the road, and your brother offered us a lift to an inn. And then the warlock happened.” He stopped abruptly and a thoughtful look crossed his face. “Hey, Brendan, do you still have that necklace?”

Brendan frowned, but reached into a pocket and pulled out a cord of braided gold, with a giant, familiar stone winking and glittering on the end of it. Jared felt his mouth drop open in astonishment at the sight of the ruby of Stormhold, a clear and vibrant red.

“How - where - what?” was all he managed, still staring at the necklace. Brendan looked from Jared to the other man, clearly confused.

“Um, Alex?” he said, sounding a little hesitant. “What’s going on?”

“You were asleep,” Alex said, and reached out to take the necklace. He ran it through his hands once, thoughtfully, then reached out to hand it to Jared. “But Eric mentioned it, and I thought it would be a good idea to check. Is this it, then? What you all were looking for?”

“Yes and no,” Jared said, taking the necklace and turning it over and over in his hands, inspecting it. “It is the necklace I was - we were - looking for, but the stone - only a male of the Stormhold bloodline could have restored the color to it. Did you give this to my brother?”

Alex looked bewildered. “What? No, Brendan’s had it the whole time. It’s always looked like that, I thought.”

“Well, actually no,” said Brendan thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, it was clear the first time I saw it, but it’s looked like that for a while.” He screwed up his face, clearly trying to remember something.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alex said crossly. “You handed it to me that first morning and it looked like that.”

“But the day before that, it didn’t. I was sitting in that hole for a long time, Alex, I didn’t have anything better to do than look at the stupid thing.”

They seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was there. Jared peered at the stone, then looked Brendan over appraisingly. He didn’t _look_ like he belonged to the bloodline, but it _was_ possible. He cleared he throat and they both stopped bickering and looked down at him. Alex looked sheepish, Brendan annoyed. Ryan, P.K., Carey, Jeff and Captain Tanya were watching the whole thing with amused expressions on their faces, but seemed disinclined to interrupt.

“I apologize for the awkward question, but I suppose I must ask,” he said, and glanced up at the two strange men. “Do you know who your father is? Your birth father?”

“Yes,” said Brendan, followed only a second later by Alex’s belligerent “Why do you ask?”

Jared raised his eyebrows, and looked Alex up and down. He certainly had the height, and something about the jawline reminded Jared of Jordan. He sighed, and looked back down at the necklace.

“My father had a second wife, who disappeared one day without a trace. It is unlikely, but possible - “ he broke off, because Alex’s face had gone completely white.

“Wait, what? Alex?” Brendan asked, looking up at Alex. Captain Tanya frowned and looked down at Jared.

“You can’t possibly mean to suggest the he is the heir?” Jared shrugged.

“I can’t,” Alex said, and sat down hard on the ground, staring at Jared. “You - you might be my _brother?_ ”

“ _Maybe_ ,” Jared stressed. “You say that the ruby’s always been this color, every time you’ve seen it?”

“Yes, I - “ Alex broke off and frowned down at his hands. “I don’t _want_ to be king,” he muttered, and Jared felt a hysterical bubble of laughter rise in his own throat.

“You have more in common with your brothers than you might think, then, if it’s true,” he said. Alex looked up and glared at him.

“I don’t actually know what color it was the first time I saw it,” he said abruptly. “It was dark out. Brendan handed me the necklace, and I examined it the best I could, but I couldn’t get a good look at it. It was definitely red the next morning, though, when I looked at it again.”

“And no one touched it but you?” Jared demanded. Alex shook his head and looked over at Brendan, who also shook his head.

“Just me, but it was clear when I found it and stayed that way,” he said, looking a little shell-shocked. Jared was inclined to believe them both, but he hesitated. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out his pouch of runes, and tossed them into the air, concentrating on his question.

_is Alex my half-brother, is Alex my half-brother, is Alex my half-brother_

The runes spun in the air, and came down into his cupped hands. He didn’t look at them for a long moment, instead focusing on Alex, who looked angry and confused, and Brendan, who looked worried and confused, and was clutching Alex’s shoulder tightly. He gave them a tight smile, then looked down at the runes in his hands.

_yes_

Jared swallowed, hard, and closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back the bitter surge of disappointment that crashed through him. All the scheming and planning, and all the things he had lost - his brothers, dead - still not enough. He opened his eyes and met Alex’s panicked gaze, then bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty.”

0o0o0o0o0

Alex looked around, to where everyone except Brendan had gotten down on one knee and bent their heads to him, and felt a spasm of panic ripple through him. Brendan squeezed his shoulder, and Alex tilted his head back to look up at Brendan.

 _What do I do,_ he mouthed, and Brendan lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug.

“Um,” he said, then winced. Tanya lifted her head and gave him an encouraging nod. He looked over at this man who was apparently his half-brother (he still hadn’t processed that, yet - there had been too many shocks) and stiffened his resolve. “Jared. Um. If you _want_ to be the king, I. . .” his voice trailed off as Jared’s head snapped up so fast it looked like he might have hurt himself.

“You what?” Jared said, and the rest of the group lifted their heads as well to give Alex evaluating looks. Alex turned his head to get away from the most piercing of the looks, from the baby-faced, curly-haired young man.

“You can have it,” Alex said, trying to get the words out as fast as possible. “I don’t want it, I’ve never wanted it, I have no idea what I’m doing - I’m not even _from_ this kingdom, I’d be so bad at it.” He held his hands out in front of him, as though warding off the crown. “ _Please_ take it.”

Jared’s face had gone slack, his eyes wide with shock. Alex couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “You would - do that?” he asked, frowning a little, and Alex nodded his head fervently.

“Look, all I want is enough money to pay off my family’s debts, and a Babylon candle,” he said, feeling Brendan’s hand tighten on his shoulder. “I don’t need anything else, I don’t want anything else - well, maybe a job as a blacksmith somewhere, I think I may have lost mine when I left. But I _don’t_ want to be king.” Alex felt the need to be very clear about this. He tried to picture himself as the king, in charge of an entire kingdom, and felt bile rising in his throat. “Please don’t make me be king.”

“It’s not a matter of _me_ making you,” Jared said slowly, his head cocked to one side. Tanya was still down on one knee, but she was looking thoughtful now, and P.K., Carey and Captain McDonagh were all looking at Jared expectantly. “It’s just - unprecedented. No king of Stormhold has ever stepped down before - they usually die, and then the heir takes over.”

“Um,” said Alex, and he scrambled to his feet, though his knees were still a little wobbly. “If it’s a choice between being king and dying - well, I don’t want to _die_.”

“Other countries have done it,” Tanya said, slowly. “The precedent exists, just not here. Why not?”

“Why not indeed,” Jared said, and a smile slowly stole over his face. “Why not indeed. We’ll need to go back to the capital, look up some precedents, iron some things out - but I think the whole thing shouldn’t take much longer than a couple of months to sort out.”

“ _Months,”_ Alex squeaked. He would try to deny it later, but it was indubitably a squeak. He heard Brendan snort, and Carey and P.K. were both grinning at him, but at the moment it was a lot to take in. “You mean I have to be the king for - _months?_ ”

“At the outside.” Jared seemed to be finding the whole thing amusing. “It won’t be very difficult - just a little smiling and waving, some diplomacy, sign a few laws. . . “ he trailed off as Alex backed away, scowling at him. “Sorry, sorry. No, we should be able to get it wrapped up fairly quickly once we get it going, but it _will_ take some time. You’ll come to the palace? You’re welcome to stay there while we get this all sorted out - you can stay somewhere else, if you like,” he said, evidently misinterpreting Alex’s expression of horror, “but you will have to be around.”

“Um,” Alex said, and found a rock to sit down on. He bent forward and pressed his palms into his eyes, hard, like if he could just push hard enough this wouldn’t have happened. “I mean, I guess - wait, no, I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Jared repeated, very delicately, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the baby-faced knight put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “What do you mean, can’t? Can’t step down?”

“No, no,” Alex waved his hand quickly. “That I can _definitely_ do, the sooner the better, right now if possible. No, I have to  - I have to get _home_. . ..” He ran back over the days, counting and recounting them, and let out a groan of defeat. “Yesterday, I have to get home yesterday - my family’s debt comes due _today_ , and if I can’t get home my sister will have to marry a man she hates to forestall it.”

There was a brief silence, and then Jared said, “Ah. I see. And where is your home?”

“On the other side of the Wall,” Alex said, staring hopelessly at the mountains all around them. “I don’t know - how many days away is that?”

“By skyship, less than a week’s travel,” said Captain McDonagh. “I don’t know that it _can_ be done on foot, from here. But we don’t have a skyship at the moment.”

Alex and Brendan exchanged looks - Brendan’s mouth was tight. He’d heard enough to understand how important this was, Alex thought.

“The _Checker_ will be coming back,” Jared said, and Tanya looked over at him, frowning.

“Is _that_ how you got here?” she demanded, and crossed her arms. “I’ll be having a word with the captain.”

“He didn’t want to bring us,” Jared said, slumping back onto the rock he was leaning on and closing his eyes wearily. The rest of them started talking about how long it would take to get back to a place where they would be able to pick up a skyship, and Alex tuned them out. He stared at his hands, appalled with himself. How could he have forgotten?

“Hey,” Brendan said quietly, and Alex looked up at him. Brendan’s smile was a little crooked. “King, huh?”

Alex groaned, and Brendan laughed a little. “Yeah. No one saw that coming.” He nudged Alex in the side until he moved over and allowed Brendan to sit next to him on the rock. “So - what now?”

“I don’t even know,” Alex said, feeling again the horrible sinking sensation at the thought of his family. He’d _forgotten_ them. “I have to get back - even if I can’t get back to pay off the debt, I _might_ be able to stop Anna from having to marry Lucic if I can get there quick enough.” He let out a humorless laugh and leaned in Brendan a little. “I guess then I have to come back here, though, to get this king thing sorted out.” He shook his head. “ _King._ I still don’t believe it.”

“Yeah,” Brendan said, and took a deep breath. Alex looked down at him, and frowned.

“Wait, shit - sorry. What about you?”

“Hmm?” Brendan looked up at him, and blinked. “What?”

“What are you going to do?” Alex’s insides went cold at the thought that Brendan might leave now, still, even after what he’d said. Alex wasn’t enough to make up for possibly getting _killed_ and having your _heart_ eaten.

“Oh.” Brendan shook his head, looking thoughtful. It was an unusual expression on his face, and Alex felt a burst of fondness pulse through him, even though he was still nervous about Brendan leaving. “I guess - I hadn’t really thought about it. I was so focused on getting away from the warlock, I never really thought about what would happen _after_.”

“I meant it, you know,” Alex said. “You can come and stay with me - my family would like you, I think. I know Nail would.” He bit his lip as Brendan’s eyes came up and focused on him, and reached out to brush his fingers across the back of Brendan’s hand, still a little disbelieving that he got to do this.

“Alex, I would _love_ to,” Brendan said, and Alex felt his heart do a flip as it tried to leap at Brendan’s words and sink at his tone. “But I can’t actually cross the Wall.”

“Huh?” Alex blinked stupidly at him as Brendan turned his hand over and captured Alex’s hand. “What do you mean, you can’t cross the Wall?”

One side of Brendan’s mouth quirked up. “Do you remember what you were looking for when you found me?”

“What, starsteel? But you said - “

“I lied. It exists - it’s what we turn into if we cross the Wall.” Alex’s face must have been doing something incredible, because Brendan huffed out a little laugh. “Look, I’d only just met you, okay - and you were _looking_ for it. It didn’t seem smart to let you know that if you dragged me across the Wall, you’d have as much as you wanted.”

“I would _never_ ,” Alex said, insulted, and tried to pull his hand away from Brendan. Brendan didn’t let go, though, just held on tight.

“I _know_ , Alex - why do you think I told you about my heart, later? I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” Alex stopped trying to pull his hand away, but he turned and looked out across the still-glowing clearing so he wouldn’t have to look at Brendan with whatever his face was doing now.

“But you can’t come home with me,” Alex said, and he felt Brendan shift next to him.

“Not across the Wall,” he said, sounding wistful.

“Are you going - back?” Alex still wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t think he could deal with whatever look was on Brendan’s face now.

“I don’t know,” Brendan said, slow. “I guess - that kind of depends on you.” Alex whipped around to stare at him.

“What?” Alex started to yell, then caught himself and lowered his voice. He didn’t want the rest of the group listening in on the conversation. “What?” he said, in a harsh whisper. “On _me?_ Brendan, what?”

“Well, if you’re going to be staying on the other side of the Wall, I might as well go back, since I won’t ever get to see you anyway that way.” Brendan sounded mulish. “I mean, I thought we were starting something, maybe, but if I was wrong - “

“No!” Alex wasn’t quite able to stop himself from yelling at that, and he winced as P.K., Carey and Tanya turned to look at them. He waved them away, then turned to Brendan, whose grin was bright enough to light the clearing all by itself. “You weren’t wrong,” he said firmly. “We’ll figure it out. We’ve got time, it sounds like,” and he wasn’t quite able to stop his voice from growing a little bitter on the last few words. Brendan let out an understanding sound and burrowed into Alex’s side. Alex lifted up his arm and draped it around Brendan’s shoulders, and they sat there for a moment, until a familiar voice rang out from above them, causing Alex to squint up at the sky.

A skyship was hovering at the edge of the lights still bedazzling the clearing. A rope ladder dangled over the side, reaching almost to the ground. Leaning over the side just beside the rope ladder, Taylor was grinning down at them.

“You folks need a ride?”

0o0o0o0o0

“I don’t have _time_ for this,” Alex said, then “Ouch!” as a pin jabbed into his knee.

“Hold _still_ , Your Majesty,” the royal tailor said. Alex glared down at him, and the tailor glared back at him. Alex looked away from the tailor and back over at Jared, who was sitting at a desk over in the corner of the room. Jared didn’t even bother to look up at him.

“If you hold still, he’ll be done quicker,” Jared said, eyes on the stack of reports he was leafing through. “Now, I have a proposal of marriage here from the Emperor of Armeel. . . “

“For me?” Alex asked, horrified. Brendan, who was hovering just over the royal tailor’s shoulder (much to that worthy’s dismay), cracked up laughing.

“Yes, for you,” Jared said, finally looking up to roll his eyes at Alex. “He’s got a daughter who’s only a few years older than you. It would be an excellent match,” he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the desk.

“I’m not marrying _anyone_ ,” Alex said firmly.

“That hurts, right here,” Brendan said mournfully. He put one hand over his heart and staggered back, draping himself dramatically over Jared’s desk. Jared shoved him gently away so that he wasn’t on top of the reports anymore. “I thought we had something _special_ ,” Brendan lamented.

Alex felt the tips of his ears heat up as he glared at Brendan. “I’m definitely not marrying you, I hate you,” he declared, folding his arms across his chest and starting to turn away.

“Stay _still_ , Your Majesty,” the royal tailor said again, his voice sharp. Alex jumped guiltily and got stuck with another pin for his trouble.

“The hem on those pants breaks too high,” P.K. said, from where he was leaning against the window. The royal tailor whipped around and glared at him.

“No it doesn’t,” he hissed. P.K. raised his eyebrows and looked over at Carey, who was lounging next to him. Carey shook his head at the tailor, looking sad.

“Pretty sure it does,” P.K. said, his voice deceptively sweet. The royal tailor was starting to look murderous. He made an aborted motion towards P.K. like he was going to go over and punch the other man, but evidently thought the better of it. Alex glared down at him, impatient to get this _over_ with.

“Can we get on with it? I needed to be back across the Wall almost a _week_ ago,” he snapped, and the tailor visibly swallowed back a retort as Jared looked up from the desk with a mild expression on his face.

Alex felt himself lapsing into a state of frustrated anxiety as the tailor went back to hemming the new pants. They had arrived at the capital late the previous evening, and Alex had _hoped_ that he would be able to leave early this morning, but Jared had insisted that Alex be crowned officially - quickly, as per Alex’s insistence that he needed to get home, _now_ \- and that he needed some nice clothes.

“You can leave tomorrow, after the coronation tonight,” Jared had said over breakfast. Alex had tried to argue that _he_ was the king, but Jared had grinned at him.

“Not until you’re officially crowned, you’re not,” he’d said heartlessly, which had led to the current situation.

Ryan had said that it would take less than a week by skyship to travel from the Stormfasts to the Wall, but that it would take two and a half days from the capital. Alex was bursting with impatience and dread - would he be too late? He knew that he could afford to pay back Lucic’s father, but if he didn’t manage to make it back before Lucic could throw together a wedding, Anna would be stuck. The Lucic’s were too powerful to allow a divorce - and what if his family didn’t want to come with him? He didn’t want to leave Brendan, but he _couldn’t_ leave them.

Something poked him sharply in the side, drawing him out of his thoughts. He looked down and saw Brendan frowning up at him. “Ouch,” he said, belatedly, and clutched at his side.

“Stay _still_ ,” came a voice from around his ankles, but Alex ignored it.

“You had your anxiety spiral face on,” Brendan said, unimpressed. “Calm down, Alex - whatever happens, we’ll work it out.”

Alex looked around - Jared was absorbed in his reports, and P.K. and Carey had formed a huddle at the window to talk about something that was happening outside. He looked back down at Brendan. “Promise?” he asked, quietly.

“Promise,” Brendan said, just as quietly. He reached out and squeezed Alex’s hand warmly. Alex returned the pressure and smiled at him, still a little shy.

“This is so sweet I might be sick,” the royal tailor said, dry. “But for the _last time_ , Your Majesty - “ Alex yelped as a pin stabbed into his ankle. “Stay _STILL!_ ”

0o0o0o0o0

Alex gripped the railing of the courier ship, his eyes trained forward on the Wall, which he could just make out in the distance. He swallowed and fought down the urge to fidget with the stiff golden braid around his wrists and throat.

P.K. came up to stand next to him, propping one foot up on the railing as he leaned forward. “Nervous?” he asked, casual.

“No,” Alex snapped, tightening his hands around the railing again. The new clothes felt strange against his skin, but Jared had insisted that he wear them.

“To impress others with your consequence,” he had said, and Tanya, P.K. and Carey had all agreed.

“Good,” Carey said from behind them. “It’ll be fine.” When Alex turned around to look at him, Carey cracked the barest hint of a smile. “You’ve got the crown, right, P.K.?”

“Yup,” P.K. said, and Alex turned to glare at him. He looked completely unrepentant, so Alex gave it up as useless and focused back on the swiftly approaching wall.

The skyship touched down just outside the market town that thrived on the Stormhold side of the wall, and Alex, P.K. and Carey disembarked and started heading for the gap. Alex’s hands were sweaty, and his stomach was twisting itself into knots. P.K. and Carey were both relaxed and seemed to be enjoying themselves, if the grins Alex saw them both sporting were any indication.

As they approached the gap, Alex saw the Guardian standing in his usual spot, his long staff braced over one shoulder. He was holding up a hand to shade his eyes as he watched them coming, and Alex could tell the precise instant when the Guardian recognized him. He let the staff fall from his shoulder and let out a great shout of laughter, bending nearly double in his amusement.

“So, you’ve returned,” he said when they approached the Wall, grinning broadly at them. Alex scowled at him on principle, which just seemed to increase his amusement. “And you’ve done well for yourself, I see.”

“He’s the King of all Stormhold,” P.K. told the Guardian solemnly, and the Guardian’s eyes flew open wide before he had to bend nearly double with laughter again. Alex turned his glare on P.K., who was proving annoyingly immune.

“Is he, now,” the Guardian said in between bursts of laughter as he struggled to get himself back under control. “Oh, that’s grand, that is - no, no, come on through. Your Majesty,” he added, and swept Alex a deep and truly ridiculous bow. Alex felt his eyebrows draw together at this obvious mockery, but he crossed through the gap in the Wall anyway, P.K. and Carey on his heels.

It wasn’t a very long walk from the Wall to his parents’ house, and in fact it was a walk that Alex had undertaken many times before. But it felt strange, now, to walk through the village where he had grown up and to see it through P.K. and Carey’s eyes - to look around at all the unfamiliar familiar things. He was more than a little unnerved by just how much his time away had changed him, and was glad when they arrived at his parents’ house.

His family wasn’t there. Alex knocked on the door - or, rather, Carey and P.K. ostentatiously pushed him out of the way and knocked on the door for him, but there was no answer, and when Alex peered in through the windows he couldn’t see anyone there. He frowned, and backed away from the door, looking up and down the street. None of the neighbors were around, but he thought he saw -

“Hey! Hey, Nail!”

The figure at the end of the street paused, then turned around and headed back towards them, resolving itself into Nail’s familiar form. He was squinting curiously at them, but broke into a broad grin when he recognized Alex, coming forward and catching him in an enormous bear hug.

“Gally!” Nail pulled back and looked him up and down, beaming with delight. “You came back! We all thought you were dead, you bastard!”

“Well, I’m not,” Alex said gruffly, pleased and a little embarrassed by this greeting. “Nail, have you seen my parents? Or Anna?”

“And who are you?” Nail asked, completely ignoring Alex to stare at P.K. and Carey, who were watching them with twin amused looks.

“P.K. Subban and Carey Price, official honor guard to the King,” P.K. said, offering up a smart salute. Alex glared at him.

“The who,” Nail said, a little blank.

“King Alexander the first, ruler of all Stormhold,” Carey said blandly. Nail’s mouth dropped open.

“You _what_ ,” he said, and Alex groaned.

“Nail!” he shouted, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment at the look on Nail’s face. “Have you seen my parents today? Or Anna?”

“Huh? Oh, they’re up at the church. You’re the _king?_ Of someplace I’ve never heard of?”

Alex frowned. “What are they doing at the church? And Stormhold’s the kingdom on the other side of the Wall. I’m not going to be king for very long, I - wait. Nail, _why are they at the church?”_

Nail looked uncomfortable. “Well, your family’s debt came due,” he said, looking away from Alex for the first time. “And there wasn’t enough money to pay it, so - “

“That’s it,” Alex said, furiously, and started striding along the street towards the church. He could feel the long red cloak that P.K. had insisted on billowing out behind him as he walked. P.K. and Carey kept pace with him easily, and Nail came along too, peppering them with questions as they went.

“So you’re the king of the kingdom on the other side of the Wall? How did that happen?”

“Magic,” Alex said tersely, and with some bitterness.

“His mother was the king’s second wife,” P.K. said helpfully. “And he completed the task of heirship first, before anyone realized.”

Nail just looked confused. “But how did he know what it was?”

“I didn’t, it was stupid,” Alex muttered as they rounded the last corner and came out onto the square where the little village church stood, the sound of the organ drifting from it. “ _Return the color to the stone_ , what kind of heirship test is that, anyway.” Nail looked even more confused, but didn’t ask any more questions as Alex strode across the square, intent on the church door.

“Wait!” P.K. rummaged through his rucksack for a moment, then produced the crown and handed it to Alex, who scowled at it. “Come on, put it on,” P.K. said, exasperated. “You want to make an impression, don’t you?”

“Fine,” Alex muttered, and took the crown with deepest reluctance. He gingerly put it on, and P.K. and Carey both bowed deeply to him. “Oh, shut up,” he said, and glared.

“Right away, Your Majesty,” Carey said blandly, and stepped in front of him to throw open the doors to the church.

With the doors now open, the sound of the organ was much clearer, the fading strains of the wedding march dying away as everyone turned to see what was happening. The priest, who had just been speaking, faltered to a halt. Alex got a brief impression of dozens of familiar faces turned towards him before P.K. and Carey marched into the church, paused halfway up the aisle, and announced, in ringing tones, “His Majesty, King Alexander the First of Stormhold!”

Alex felt like an idiot, but he followed them into the church, walking slowly so that the crown (which was slightly too big) wouldn’t slip off of his head. There was some impressed murmuring as he entered, but he only had eyes for the people at the front of the church - Anna, resplendent in white and wearing a murderous expression; Lucic, holding on to Anna’s hands and looking absolutely thunderstruck; and his parents, who were sitting in the front row and clutching at each other, gaping at him.

The priest, who had been stunned silent by their appearance, now seemed to rally. “Dearly beloved,” he began again, but Alex continued walking forward, and he stuttered to a halt again. Lucic turned to scowl at him.

“Get on with it,” he said, and gripped tighter as Anna tried to yank her hands away from his.

“Let _go_ of me,” she hissed, and Alex spoke in a loud voice.

“I can think of just cause why these two might not be married, Your Honor.”

The priest blinked at him. “Oh?” he said, stammering a little. “Well - we hadn’t quite gotten there, yet, but . . “ he trailed off, mumbling a little under the combined glares of P.K., Carey, and Lucic.

“What cause?” Lucic asked, curling his lip. “Your sister is mine, fair and square - her presence pays your father’s debt.”

“ _I_ pay my father’s debt,” Alex said, and nodded at P.K., who pulled a pouch from his rucksack and tossed it at Lucic. He had to let go of Anna’s hands to catch it before it hit him in the face, for which Alex silently thanked P.K. “There it is - 20,000 dollars, _plus_ interest,” he added as he saw Lucic open his mouth. Anna was staring at him, wearing a very peculiar look, but her eyes were glittering. “So you don’t have to marry him if you don’t want to, Anna.”

“The hell she doesn’t,” Lucic started to say, but Anna stopped him by putting one hand on his arm. He looked down at her, surprised. Anna blinked her eyes at him, once, twice - and then hit him so hard in the face that he went stumbling back away from her and tripped over the altar, falling on his back and crashing into the priest, who shrieked as he was knocked into a large stand of candles.

“ _God,_ that was satisfying,” Anna said, stepping carefully away from the tangled, fiery mess of priest and bridegroom. From behind him, Alex could practically hear his mother’s disapproval of Anna taking the Lord’s name in vain _in a church_ , but he kept his eyes on his sister, and offered her his arm.

“Milady,” he said, and bowed - very carefully, so as not to lose the crown. P.K. and Carey both coughed, a little, so probably he wasn’t supposed to do that, but Alex ignored them, and anyway they were also bowing, so there. “May I escort you out?”

“You may,” Anna said, her head up and more regal than any queen Alex could imagine. She took his offered arm and they turned to go.

There was a brief commotion behind them, and Alex turned around to see Lucic emerging from the pile, his face dark with fury and his suit smoking slightly around the edges. “ _You_ ,” he snarled, and his fists were clenched as he started to charge at them - only to come up short as he nearly impaled himself on P.K. and Carey’s swords. They were both looking at him with expressions of quiet menace.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Carey said softly. “His Majesty might get upset.”

Alex did his best to emulate the look Jared used on people who were wasting his time as he looked at Lucic, then back at P.K. and Carey. “Throw him out,” he said, and turned with Anna to start down the aisle, stopping in front of their parents. “Mama, Papa - will you come with me?”

He saw his parents hesitate, and felt a shaft of cold pierce his heart. He couldn’t imagine a life without his family - hadn’t even thought of what he’d do if they didn’t come. But luckily his fear was short-lived, for his mother stood and helped his father up, and nodded decisively at him.

“We will happily come with you, Your Majesty,” his father said quietly, and Alex felt an extremely uncomfortable mixture of pride and embarrassment tug at his chest. He lifted his chin to try and hide it and led his family out into the sun.

0o0o0o0o0

_Epilogue_

Six months after Jared’s coronation, things were slowly starting to settle into a routine. Alex blew on his fingers to try and warm them up as he hurried through the door one of the servants was holding open for him, nodding his thanks as he did so. He was running late, so he just hurried through the halls until he reached the smaller dining chamber where they were waiting for him.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, sliding into the seat next to Brendan at the table. Brendan kicked at him under the table, and Alex kicked him back. Anna kicked them both, until Alex’s mother gave them all reproving looks that made them fall still.

“We’re glad you’re here,” Jared said, and the servants started passing food around. Alex and his family still weren’t used to this, and Alex could see his mother’s instinctive offer to help bitten back.

The table was emptier than Alex was used to - it was still strange to look over at where Tanya should be sitting and see her empty chair, but she had been gone two weeks now on her quest to find a cure for the spell the warlock had used on Eric. The Witch Queen had said that such cures had been heard of, though she didn’t know it herself, and Tanya had promptly taken a leave of absence to go hunting for it. The seat beside hers was also empty, because Jordan had insisted on accompanying her. Alex hadn’t managed to get the full story behind that out of Jared or Jeff yet, but his oldest living half-brother had seemed glad of an excuse to get out of the city and away from them.

Down the table, Jeff was laughing at something his father was saying, and Jared was watching him with an unmistakable fondness in his expression. Alex shook his head, and turned to look at Brendan, who was animatedly abusing his short-lived reign with Anna.

“Hey!” he interjected as Brendan started to tell Anna about the time with the eagles in the royal aviary. But they just laughed at him, the way they always did, and kept talking. Alex truly regretted introducing the two of them, because they got along _far_ too well, in his opinion.

“Alex, darling, is Nail still coming for a visit next week?” his mother asked, and Alex turned away from his boyfriend and his sister and nodded.

“I cleared it with the Guardian,” he said, and started eating. He was _starving_ \- Ryan had taken over for Tanya in her absence, and apparently that included continuing Alex’s lessons in swordplay. He winced a little, rotating his sword arm, and Brendan brought his hand up to rub at his shoulder, soothingly.

“Good,” his mother said, sounding pleased. “Who is escorting him from the Wall?”

“P.K. and Carey said that they’d take a squad,” Jared said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. Alex flushed.

“It’s only Nail,” he muttered. “I thought they were busy with the Army.”

“ _Only_ the ex-king’s best friend,” Jeff put in, sliding Alex a knowing glance. “ _Only_. But no, I think they were pleased to get back out into the field.”

“How are the negotiations coming?” Alex asked Jared, trying to change the subject. Jared slumped further down in his chair, groaning.

“They are certainly coming,” he said, and the rest of the meal passed with discussions of the negotiations with the Witch Queen, and the rulers of the other, neighboring kingdoms, who thought that Stormhold’s new king might be weak, since he hadn’t gained the throne by murder.

“That was nice,” Brendan said, as they headed back to their quarters after dinner. “I like those dinners.”

“Good,” Alex said, knocking their shoulders together.

“I’ll like them better when Taylor gets back, though,” Brendan continued as though Alex hadn’t said anything. “You get cranky when you haven’t been to the forge in a few days.”

“Excuse you, I do not!”

They continued on their way, bickering amicably as they headed back to the little house at the edge of the palace grounds. The stars glittered overhead, winking peacefully down at them.

_And they lived happily ever after._

**Author's Note:**

> A chapter 2 full of outtakes and extras is coming soon! In the meantime, you can find me at [accidentallymelted](https://accidentallymelted.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [silverandblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverandblue/pseuds/silverandblue) Log in to view. 




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